Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Acceptance Of Self





Somewhere, somehow in this journey I lost sight of my okay-ness.  I became less, I pushed my self, my needs, my heart down and expected myself to thrive.  I thought if only I could be better, do more, be something, then I would have value.  I have searched desperate to find a deeper meaning in my own existence.  Only to find that at this point I have resigned myself to my nothingness, my lack.  I am more filled with my failures than my successes.  I look back and think, if only.  I could have been something!

I'm not sure how long I have quietly succumbed to these lies.  To the broken half truths that fill my mind and keep me, head down, doggedly going around this mountain.  Maybe someday I'll reach the summit, but in order to do that I must believe I am worthy to step foot on the trail.

Our worth.  What is it that qualifies us, that sets us apart?  Is it the approval of others, success, a healthy family?  Is it simply that we are?  We are equipped in our mere existence?  This tosses the accolades of man and makes a sham of the highest regards.

If in my lowliness, a wife, a mother, a friend, if in this I am faithful, I am known - have I not found the greatest level of value?  

There is joy in our personal glories, our creations that outside of ourselves are esteemed, but who can call forth the quality of a man - another man, who themselves also reach and strive with the same ferocity and hunger that drives each of us to go further?

It must come from within our beings.  We must come to the place of deep acceptance, love, and value of ourselves - only from this place of peace can we strive to climb the mountain, swing from the heights, and reach the goals that we have laid out for ourselves.

It is in our resting place of self love.  If we strive forward and see our value in our plaques, then we will always hunger.  It is the same for the person who seeks to reinvent themselves.  If they cannot accept their worst, they will never be able to enjoy their best.

Perhaps this is a wandering of an over tired mind.  The losing of myself to a momentarily quiet house and the reflection of my youth in pictures.  I look at the me that was so desperate to be loved that she strived to earn what she could not see.  It has been in the resting and trust of myself and safety that I have found my place.  It is here, that I can see I have created my own stumbling blocks as I glare at my body, despise my face, and hate my wrinkles.  If we cannot see our glowing years of triumph in our lines of comfort, our softening skin, then we make a mockery of all that life sees as victory.

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