Triggered. Triggered by being triggered. Raw. Stomach in knots. Heavy heart. Cloudy mind. Chewing on some thorny self disapproval. This morning’s breakfast was brought to me by self loathing. Sometimes it’s something so little and irrelevant that pushes the button and BAM! An explosion of disappointment and anger and frustration and deep sadness. All directed at moi from moi. Layered multi leveled extravaganza of everything that I think is wrong with me.

 

Moving through it. Breathing. Making space between me and my experience.

 

I have dealt with this my whole life. Self beating. Self Shaming. Blaming. Negative self talk. Guilt. Not constructive criticism, but pure self harm. I have spent my entire adult life working on changing this conversation. I’m doing pretty well. Most of the time. Every once In a while though… ouch!

 

This little girl that I gave life to will follow my lead. She will learn from my example. How I’m being with myself will become how she’s being with herself. And I SO want her to be good to herself.

 

It is my duty as a mama to model self acceptance, self love, self care, self nurture.

 

I want that to be in her nature.

 

I want her to respect and love her body. I want her to know that she is extraordinarily smart. I want her to feel how powerful she is. I want her to forgive herself when she messes up. I want her to accept the entirety of herself even when she sees the parts that she wants to disown.

 

Own it, baby! Own your shadow and work your light. Handle the pieces you feel less proud of with care. Please don’t hurt yourself with poisonous words that cut through your heart like sharp knives. Treat yourself well. Grow yourself with tenderness. Evolve yourself with love.

 

It is my responsibility to show her how it’s done.

 

And so today, I will direct the flood of tears from self harm and self pity to a sacred ritual of inner bathing. I will wash the blood off the blades that injure my heart. I will breathe into the tightness of self loathing in my belly. I will remind myself of what I appreciate about my own ways. I will massage my body with a message of love. Accepting that it is my area of struggle… from good old body image issues to the new member of the company of issues –  the process of aging. Welcome to the party new friend! I will give myself room to mourn the loss of how it used to be, and make space to love the miracle of life that moved through my body twice (and actually really moves through it every day). I will conceal those body image and aging worries really well, and demonstrate a healthy relationship with my form. Not as a lie, but as a true expression of years of work. I will recommit to transforming the aspects of me that I want to change.

 

And when I pick her up from school I will greet her as the evolved woman that I strive to be. Not perfect. Soft. Probably a little raw. Work in progress. I’ll be present with her and ready to play, work, and grow.

 

Little girls need no perfect moms. They need us to show them self love. They need to know that it’s ok to be messed up. They need to know how to hold themselves through the mess. They need to see that we are vulnerable and real. That we make peace with our pieces. That we are under construction (and open for business). That we haven’t figured it all out. That we take care of ourselves. Kindly. Authentically. Even when it’s hard. That we are in this with them… safely guiding the way. Stable, strong, and supportive. Yet walking beside them, still trying to figure it all out.