Antonia - "always too much"
For the first time in my life, I like what I see in the mirror, on Max video, on Shaznane photographs. This external image seems to finally match my mood. As if the one I feel was matching the one I see. No matter what other people think. A 50 year old women in a not too decrepit shape, with a few wrinkles that form sunbeams around her eyes. My precious wrinkles telling the story of my life, my loves, my unquenchable grieves and my restorative joys.
I’m no longer a daughter of immigrants. I’m no longer guilty to live or to be the unfit mother I am. I’m no longer a victim. I’m no longer imperfect. I’m no longer an impostor. I am who I am. And that's how I finally love myself.
Not too tall with my knock knees and my head that exceeds on the class photos or in the metro when I fathom most midsize men. Not too flat with my small buttocks and breats. Breasts that the man I used to love once try to get implants in and that I fiercely defended the way they were. Not too beautiful as a
young business woman once blamed me when I was at the dawn of my career. Blamed because as I was very pretty I had to be very dumb. Not with my not enough white and slightly twisted teeth which have kind of always prevented me to smile with open mouth or to talk in public except if I was hiding them behind my hand. Even my new young dentist told me a week ago “Why don’t you get them whitened? You have such a beautiful smile and everything else looks great!”. Well that’s the point.
All these little imperfections cumulated have, under the prism of the others eyes, from the most harmless to the most perverted and malicious, contributed all my life to hate this fragmented picture in my inner mirror and in my self esteem. Lowering years after years the ceiling of my personal aspirations and professional ambitions. Mourning, nervous breakdown, burn out, bored out, many hazards of life everyone encounters, never in the same way.
And one day, I am 50. It’s like the countdown has begun. The awareness of keeping going the wrong way. So I decide to stop undergo. I change the parameters of my love life, my parenthood, my career, my friendships and I become selfish. I start thinking to myself first, my needs, cravings and desires. My renounced dreams.
I take the road alone. 30 days, 6.000 kilometers.
I stop devaluing myself and I start to treat me with kindness and gentleness, to accept with tenderness each of my hated imperfection, from the smallest physical detail to the most intellectual. I’m at peace with myself. And then I push the sides of the rigid frame where I locked myself in, the limitations I imposed on me. I finally feel the urge not to get carried away by a stream I didn’t drive and I take the time to stop whirlpool to rest. I don’t let past habits bully me nor forbid myself any future perspective.
I take time to think. Meditate. Breath. Live. Feel.
In full awareness. Peacefully. Free. Here and now.