-Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
These words have rung in my ears recently, vibrating off the walls of my chest cavity. I am. Such a powerful two words to be sung by the bell of your heart. In a world where it is all too easy to see all the beautiful little bits of stranger’s lives, it is simple to ease into resentment. Tapping little thumbs up or little hearts in effort to say “congratulations” often leads us into a dark hole where we look for the greenest spaces but only find dry, dull weeds rattling off the sides like dead moss.
Why not me? Why didn’t I have that luck? Why aren’t I like her?
But we all simply are, can’t you see? We all have something someone is lamenting their lack of. We all ARE. So here are things I am, to remind myself that it doesn’t matter what I am not. What are you?
I am a good friend. I will wake you up with coffee and bring you scented soaps when you are down to your last penny. I will kiss you on the mouth and pour you red wine. Most importantly, I will listen. Instead of a pushover, I am reliable.
I am curator. I will try until it looks right. I will have nothing in a space until the perfect option beckons my senses. Instead of selectively snobbish, I am waiting for loveliness.
I am a mother. I do not have children, but I tend and care for things with a motherly love. I am a mother to words, to pictures, to animals, and to plants. Instead of childless, I am a mother to many.
I am beautiful. I love my frizzy hair and my large hip bones and thick rib cage. Instead of thick and tall, I am graceful and move with the wind.
I am a positive person. Even when the demons come out to play, I am a dweller on that which is lovely. Speaking negativity causes it to come into fruition. Instead of letting depression clench my throat, I am positive.
I am a lover. I am a lover to my husband, to my family, to my dogs, to the stray cats outside, to books, to words, and to a camera lens.
I am the author of my own life. I need only pick up the pen and write novel of Elizabeth Rose.
I am constantly blooming. Instead of changing my mind all the time, I am evolving into a more mature me.
I am an intelligent being. I am made of flesh and bone and sinew and tendon. Instead of being just another pinpoint on this massive planet Earth, I am an advanced creature who has beaten evolution. With each beautiful thought, which each dance, with each poem, I prove that I have intelligence worth savoring.
Today, I challenge you, sit down with a pen and paper and just write. Write what you are. Write what makes me you happy. Write what you love about yourself, and treasure those golden little nuggets.
What are you today?