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Tonight, I could go downstairs and pluck my eyebrows into a shape I like. To remove the pale colour of my skin, I could get my fake tan out of the cupboard and put it all over my body; arms, legs, face.
When I wake up in the morning, I'll open up my make-up case and cover my uneven skin tone with foundation. To add shape back to my face, I'll use a highlighter, contour, and blush. I also need to have my eyelashes re-done, so they look long and dark and full, enhancing the look of my eyes. I'll shave all the hair off my legs, vagina, and underarms when I shower next. On Sunday, I'll book an appointment to have my nails infilled so the hands I am self-conscious of don't look like man's hands. To extend the length of my legs, I'll wear heels. My hair; if I don't like it, I can change as much as I want. I can colour it, cut it, and add extensions. I straighten it, curl it, put it up, leave it down. One day, when Solomon finally stops breastfeeding, I'll have a breast job. I can remove my wrinkles with botox and have bigger lips with fillers. With the right colour clothing, I can make my skin look brighter. Depending on how I'm feeling, depends on what glasses I wear, and depending on what glasses I wear, depends on the shape of my face. If I don't like the loose parts of my skin, I can wear the correct undergarments to make my body look more petite. I can lose weight or gain weight as I need, or more accurately, as I want. If I started at the top of my head and worked down the length of my body, I could tell you all the things I could change; or if I'm being honest, I do change weekly, sometimes daily. And after all of that, if I'm still unhappy, I'll download an app that can remove the mum-tum that I hate, the wrinkles, or the tired eyes. I can remove all the scars on my arms. I can remove every mark which indicates a life lived so that I can look perfect. And once I have done that and changed all my storytelling lines, I can add a mother fucking filter that will hide those tiny little bits that no one else would even notice. And I can look, smile, and say, "now the world can see me." And still, I dare to say to tell you that you are beautiful and don't ever change a thing about yourself and stay confident in who you are and every quality you have and give to the world. I tell you this, all the while I'm doing the opposite. You won't remember my words, which I'm desperately trying to speak over your heart and mind. You'll remember a mother who has different colour nails every fortnight, extended eyelashes, a million clothes and still doesn't know what to wear. You'll remember a mother standing in front of the mirror every morning, straightening her already straight hair and removing any flaws from her face. And you'll think it's all normal and all okay. And you know what? It is normal. We live in a world and society where women changing themselves before presenting themselves is entirely normal, and no one thinks anything of it. Every woman says, myself included, "we don't do it for others; we do it for ourselves and self-love". I call bullshit. I do it for others. It would be easier for me to wake up each morning, not put in the effort, and just bush my teeth and hair. But outside for that and hygiene stuff for the health of my body - it's for others. I want to present myself in a way that looks like I have it all together, even when crumbling underneath. I can say, "now the world can see me". I have to tell you a secret - sometimes (lol, every time) I see someone, and I'm not wearing make-up, I think I'm brave and impressed with myself. I'm convinced that the length we go to to look a certain way has nothing to do with our body but everything to do with our heart. When I cover up the flaws and marks and faults on my face with make-up, I'm trying to cover the imperfections, blemishes, and scars on my heart. So when I'm in public or with friends, they will see the confidence in my face and assume that my heart and mind are following suit. Maybe, if they can only see what I've presented to them, they won't know what I'm hiding under a well-put-together mask and facade. If I can remove the tired eyes, they won't see the weariness I carry. If they can't see the uneven skin tone, they won't see the rises and falls of my heart. But at the same time, if I present myself well enough, maybe I won't see them either. Perhaps I'll miss the internal flaws because the external flaws are covered. This could explain why I think I'm brave when I've spent time with someone without make-up. I've presented myself to them in my vulnerable, authentic and scared state. I'm saying to them, "here I am, in my rawest form, and I hope you accept me like this". So, Alexis, it's not your body I hope you learn to accept; it's your heart. From the overflow of loving your heart and mind, I genuinely think you'll love your body, face, and every part of you, no matter what society suggests. It's not your body with flaws and faults. It's actually your mind convincing you that you're not enough, and by changing the external, you will become enough. You see, make-up and all those other things aren't the issues; the issue why we use them and using them to cover our perceived flaws. No matter what you change externally, your mind will still tell you there is more to fix before you become acceptable to anyone, including yourself. So rather than your focus being your external, ensure that it's internal you put your time into. Focus on your mind and heart and the deep needs because that's where you'll find the freedom you need. I'm going to leave this letter here - but I think I'll come back to it later because I have so many thoughts, and to put them all into one letter would make it confusing. For now, my sweet angel, your mind, your heart and your compassion are my favourite parts about you!
1 Comment
Oh Alexis, I don't want to talk about this. I already dislike writing this letter, and it's only just started. I've written you so many letters that act as a metaphor to life, but right now, I don't have the energy to write about metaphors that are open to interpretation; I only have time to write the truth. Today I got home from having lunch with a friend. After lunch, she invited me back to her house; I said "no". Listening to my body, I knew I needed some downtime. I wish I had said "yes". I didn't realise that what I would walk into was a place that harboured a tangible presence of silence. I hadn't cleaned up the kitchen from Solomon's breakfast and the train track he had created only hours before lay on the floor cold and was starting to collect dust. I quickly told Hey Google to begin playing music, so the silence didn't sound so loud. Solomon's little track was too much, and music in place of Solomon's babbling or you laughing and asking for food reminded me of the emptiness within the house. What I wanted was those noises, the noise of my two children. I wanted blocks and mess on the floor, which I would have to tiptoe through, that I would resent later as I cleaned it up. Tears fell from my eyes, and heavy sobs left my chest as I packed away the stupid fucking train set. How could a train set bring up so many deep emotions? Despite so desperately wanting to, this toy acted as a confronting reminder that I had dreams and hopes I could no longer hold onto.  The realisation set in that you are now learning how to let go of dreams too. It would be best if you didn't have to learn this at nine years old, but children are at the mercy of the decisions made around them and have to learn lessons before it seems fair. It'll be okay, and you'll be okay because I'll talk to you about navigating the changes.
As adults, as plans change and life moves around us, we tend to hold onto our hopes and dreams loosely. However, you'll come across dreams you don't want to let go of – you want them to come true. And there are hopes you hold in the secret places of your heart, which you will never let go of. I have some of my own. Family and you and Solomon being home all the time. Noisiness within our space, laughter, joy, peace. I don't want to let go of those, even when they cause me pain because the thought of them brings so much fullness to my heart. I think fondly of the holidays and weekends away which haven't happened yet. I'm letting go of the thoughts of more siblings for you and Solomon. Deep down in my heart, there's part of me in the secrecy that doesn't want to let go of these. I want them. I have always longed for these hopes, and there have been glimpses of them coming to pass, but they've never quite gotten there, and I know now they won't. At least not how I imagined. So how do we let go of old dreams? The ones we so desperately wanted and still want? We allow, in the heartache, for ourselves to make new dreams. Still the holidays, still the constant cuddles, still the joyful and loving family, still the adventures. They will look different, but it doesn't make them any less or mean they have less worth. My dream is to run again, finish my study, and take you and Solomon to where I grew up. They still exist, and while I'll still grieve my old plans and hopes, I won't stop making new hopes and dreams because of the heartache. Although letting go of the old is sad and painful, especially when you don't want to do it, I think the real tragedy lies in not creating new dreams and not learning to look forward due to the risk of disappointment. I would rather dream and hope and end up disappointed than not dreaming. I would rather the sadness than knowing I've stopped my heart from beating and growing like it's designed to do. I've always wanted to give you and Solomon a beautiful, safe, complete and loving home where your hearts are inspired and your feelings are validated. Our home is all of these things, and although our surroundings have changed, this goal has not. It's the same dream, just in a different space, emotionally and physically. This is what I'm still doing and will forever be my aim. It might look different – but it still looks beautiful. It's all still so bloody beautiful! |
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