I’m no longer young. I no longer have a perfect body, nor a perfect soul. My wisdom far outweighs my intellect. Yet my ability to love and forgive far outweighs it all.
This is the cost.
And I will gladly pay it over and over again.
When I picture myself these days… atrocious self-esteem, a body little cared for the way I’d like, wrinkles that bring to mind how disgracefully my mother aged, my flaws screaming at me like a spotlight in the darkness… I realise that I’m not as “put together” as originally believed. And I’ve learned that my mind can’t be trusted.
All of this brings both fear and shame.
When I picture my Self these days… it radiates. I radiate. Discovering strength never known, softness previously terrified of, vulnerabilities perceived as weakness. An understanding that feelings aren’t as dangerous as once believed. A peace never dreamed possible. And an acceptance of life that is beginning to blossom into letting go.
All of this brings the realisation that I have enough.
The worry of becoming invisible is slowly being replaced with a sense of freedom. The trust that those who want to see me, will. The belief that I’m more capable of being present with another, than I thought.
My body may not be what it once was, my heart may carry more scars than ever, my soul may ache unbearably at times.
This is the cost.
And I will gladly pay it over and over and over again.
