we're all insecure, i'm just the first to admit it
I will probably never be good enough for myself.
I will always be five pounds too heavy, five IQ points too low, and five times vainer than I should be.
But the second we are born we our weighed, determined a pretty or ugly baby, and judged by the volume of our screams. People's interpretations of us already begin to swim back and forth, roles created and projections made.
We are introduced to a world of tough love, rough sex, and people with very strong ideas of what's right and what's wrong.
When we are honest we are sometimes told that we're too emotional, over reacting, insecure or in deep need of therapy. It holds us back from saying what our hearts our screaming, silences words that would turn our weakness into solid strength.
While we sit together politely and whisper societal norms, and whatever seems apropriate, we could be creating an honesty revolution. If only it wasn't so hard, and so easy to let our thoughts darken our insides before giving them air.
Every time I admit my insecurities I am freer to live without them. They are out in the open air, mingling with everyone elses, and I can inhibit my own body more freely.
To say that somebody has no problems is to say that they have never spent a waking day on this earth. We all have our own monsters, some bigger, some in other people, other events, or deep within ourselves. Sometimes you have to look closely at somebody in a sober morning light, or talk to them drunkenly at midnight to see this.
It is important to remind people that we love them, what they do to us and mean to us. To tell them they inspire us if they do. To say "My god, you are beautiful," when the thought is dancing in our minds. To voice jealousy as the respect it in fact is, and compliment people when the words are humming inside of us.
On this note, a strange woman is living with me. The other night my mother climbed off the train looking beautiful, effortlessly fashionable in a long flowing linen jacket. She has joined me in this village and brought light to my life. I wake up feeling new meaning in the day. I grab her and don't want to let go. She inspires me, and feeds me unconditional love on a daily basis. She is wise, poetic, and playful. I can barely express how grateful I am to bounce my thoughts of something other than these crumbling walls.
I will always be five pounds too heavy, five IQ points too low, and five times vainer than I should be.
But the second we are born we our weighed, determined a pretty or ugly baby, and judged by the volume of our screams. People's interpretations of us already begin to swim back and forth, roles created and projections made.
We are introduced to a world of tough love, rough sex, and people with very strong ideas of what's right and what's wrong.
When we are honest we are sometimes told that we're too emotional, over reacting, insecure or in deep need of therapy. It holds us back from saying what our hearts our screaming, silences words that would turn our weakness into solid strength.
While we sit together politely and whisper societal norms, and whatever seems apropriate, we could be creating an honesty revolution. If only it wasn't so hard, and so easy to let our thoughts darken our insides before giving them air.
Every time I admit my insecurities I am freer to live without them. They are out in the open air, mingling with everyone elses, and I can inhibit my own body more freely.
To say that somebody has no problems is to say that they have never spent a waking day on this earth. We all have our own monsters, some bigger, some in other people, other events, or deep within ourselves. Sometimes you have to look closely at somebody in a sober morning light, or talk to them drunkenly at midnight to see this.
It is important to remind people that we love them, what they do to us and mean to us. To tell them they inspire us if they do. To say "My god, you are beautiful," when the thought is dancing in our minds. To voice jealousy as the respect it in fact is, and compliment people when the words are humming inside of us.
On this note, a strange woman is living with me. The other night my mother climbed off the train looking beautiful, effortlessly fashionable in a long flowing linen jacket. She has joined me in this village and brought light to my life. I wake up feeling new meaning in the day. I grab her and don't want to let go. She inspires me, and feeds me unconditional love on a daily basis. She is wise, poetic, and playful. I can barely express how grateful I am to bounce my thoughts of something other than these crumbling walls.
posted by Gillian Young at 8:20 PM
4 Comments:
Gill, I love your mom, too. And I love your raw and beautiful confessions. You both inspire me!
Hug her for me, will ya? And keep one for yourself. Wenda
My god, you are beautiful! This post is so fantastic and exactly the way I feel often. And you inspire others the way your mom inspires you. Thanks for that. Xoxo...
yo gill its andrew
what i do is put an elastic band on my arm and whenever ihave a negative thought or feeling that is just pointless i pull it out really far and let it smack against my wrist. And ever since ive started doing this, ive been in the happiest moods. Its crazy how it subconciously works.
andrew
And comments like this inspire me to keep writing. But Andrew, what if I pop a vein? What if more than anything I hate the feel of an elastic snapping against my skin? Instead, I think I'll just imagine you doing it, that should be enough to make me smile. Thanks man.
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