There’s a photo of my ex-husband and myself on my refrigerator. We’re in the North Georgia mountains on a beautiful summer day. I didn’t put the photo up because I was feeling nostalgic though it is a nice memory; I put it up because my 61-year-old-eyes think my late 20s-year-old-self looks really good. But here’s the catch, I don’t remember feeling good about my weight well, almost ever. Which means I was most likely feeling self-critical then and I’m wondering now WHY??? So I put the photo up to teach my present self a lesson; to be a reminder about how hard I can be on myself. Despite wearing two sizes smaller and being more toned now than when I started two years ago, and despite being the recipient of frequent compliments from people who’ve known me from before this time of change, listening to my self-talk in the dressing room at Kohl’s or Macy’s is not for the fainthearted. That’s the bad news; the good news is that something, finally, is changing. I’m not there yet and as is often the case when a thought or belief is new and fragile, I can’t quite articulate it but I can feel a shift in self-perception and acceptance starting to happen. This shift feels part of something bigger – my yearning to be my truest self which is actually, at least for me, much harder than it seems. My favorite quote in recent times is the following:
“Maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything. Maybe its about unbecoming everything that isn’t you so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place.”
That’s where I’m headed.