From my latest Tribe de Mama piece. Mamas, take this in.
How well do we really love ourselves? How readily do we accept the notion that we are deserving of love, of respect and of validation?
Are we kind when surveying the dimples on our skin? Are we gracious when looking at all wrinkles softly forming? Are we careful to overlook what might otherwise be seen as flaw, careful instead to sweetly adore each line, each roll and each curve? Do we marvel at the sound of our own laugh, sit quietly with each thought, giving it center stage and a microphone through which to speak? Do we let our bones settle softly at the end of each day?
I didn’t mean to fall so deeply in love with myself. I never set out to do such a thing. A byproduct it was, though, of looking myself up and down countless times in the mirror, paying careful attention to both all that I could see, and equally so all that I could feel, and realizing exactly what it is I am and what I am capable of.
I know it’s not easy to love ourselves every day of the week. I know the thought process exists on a curve, and is apt to ebb and flow. We don’t always feel good enough, present enough, lovely enough or even remotely sure enough that we really are all that we are told we are.
But do you dare give yourself exactly - and perhaps even more - the amount of love you give to others? Will you try?
Let us hold space for each of our utmost desires; let us allow room for the hopes we hold, and graciously let go of all that hinders us. Let us take a firm stance on all that we hold dearest, and honor graciously all that which propels us to be good.
And warrior women, let us look at our soft skin, marvel at the curves of our breasts and our hips, touch those sweet spots that glow, and know that our bodies are powerful tools, and our minds deep wells of strength.