Reflection

When I look in the mirror I am not always excited by what I see. As I have mentioned in previous posts, most days my hair is up in some whoopdy doo and I rarely put make-up on when I have no plans to leave the house. I love putting on make-up and doing my hair but sometimes when Bruce takes a nap and I have time to do such things I prefer to do the dishes or write or clean the bathroom or fold the laundry or knit. Thankfully I have been blessed with pretty fantastic hair, so even when I take less then thirty seconds to put it up it still looks done due to its natural curl and not-so-natural reddish hue. (My hair is half gray. No exaggeration.) I have allowed myself on many occasions to lament about one thing or another in regards to my reflection. Examples; my waist doesn't go in enough, my shoulders are too broad, I have a hundred freckles on one patch of skin alone, two of my toes are webbed, and on and on. The thought struck  me the other day that although the outward may not always look like I want it to, especially during, and the few months after, pregnancy, but the inside is coming along quite nicely. I am not suggesting that I am without faults and shortcomings. I have many. However, I can say that I am at peace with who I am. This may seem like a trite or empty statement but let me explain where I am coming from. My biological mother raised me, my older brother and my older sister for several years. She left and signed over her parental rights, for whatever reason, when I was five and my siblings were six and seven. She then chose to go on and have four more children with a different man. I don't know why she did what she did and I am not saying she is a bad person because of it. I find her decision abhorrent and it is beyond me how she lives with herself, but again, it is not my place to judge her as I am sure, and I almost hope, that she has lived in her own personal hell since she left. I say I almost hope because I want to believe that I meant something to her and if she has suffered beneath the weight of her decision then maybe she really did care. As a child I thought she left because of me. Even as an adult I can look back and see that obviously she had her own demons to deal with and her decision had nothing to do with anything I could have possibly done. Nonetheless, I have a tendency to still think that everything was and is my fault. I used to pull my hair out when I was little because I thought I deserved it. I thought I was so naughty and unlovable that I deserved to be in pain all the time, whether emotional or physical. I thought that the outside of me and the inside of me were both equally awful and ugly. I have struggled with these feelings for years and now it has dimmed to a constant feeling of inadequacy. Thank goodness. I don't share this in an attempt for pity. It has been a very real and influential part of my life. I share this to illustrate how far I have come when I can honestly write down the words, "the inside is coming along quite nicely." I like to think that for the most part I am a nice person. I try to be sympathetic to the needs of others. I enjoy making things for people and listening to their stories, although sometimes I am probably guilty of talking more than I listen. I love to laugh and have fun. I married a man who is closer to a saint than I will ever be and we have a beautiful baby boy. I have many wonderful friends and I talk with all of my siblings. I love to learn new things. I have faith in God and I can see His hand in my life. I am at peace with who I am and where I am going. Inner peace is such a blessing. It does no mean that everything goes according to plan. It does not mean that life can't be one setback after another from time to time. But it does mean that I am healing, I am improving and that my life was meant to be filled with joy. My appearance may bother me from time to time but I'm a normal woman. Far worse would it be, and I know from experience, if I did not like who I was on the inside.