Shakespeare was one pretty smart dude. “This above all: to thine own self be true.” Being authentic. Being real. Isn’t that what it is all really about? If all you have ever wanted all your life was for someone to love you, how are they ever going to do that if you don’t love you first? I’m not saying be conceited and think that you are the best thing since sliced bread. What I am saying is the first thing that we need to do is to figure out how to love ourselves.
I am on this journey of self discovery, trying to figure out the beautiful mess that I am. My conclusion is that we are all looking for a little validation. Okay, nothing earth shattering here, I am aware of that. However, if you have self-esteem issues it might be. I looked in the mirror today and said, “Not bad Biddle.” For me, that is big. When you have had a life time of thinking you weren’t worth it, it takes a long time to undo the damage you have done. So I start with what I have, awesome hair. Come on, admit it. I really do have awesome hair. I also have a beautiful smile, the ability to make you laugh until you cry, and empathy. I shouldn’t rely on someone else to provide my reassurance.
Next up, is tackling the demons. Come on, we all have them admit it. That is why we are having this conversation anyway. Sure, some of us may have more demons than the rest of us, but we are our own worst enemies. When we do something stupid, and kick ourselves over and over, and just can’t seem to let it go, who is it that does that? It’s us, right? I don’t need to point out my flaws to anyone. Why do I want to invite someone to make life more painful for me than it already is?
Today I stood in front of the mirror, and I lifted my shirt. Running down the center of my abdomen is a very long scar. I hate you gastric bypass scar. You are an ugly reminder of what I did to myself to try to be just like everyone else, to be “normal”. I hate you gastric bypass scar, because of you I have pernicious anemia. Sometimes, my iron and B-12 drop so low that I suffer confusion and memory loss, my hair falls out, and things in my life are fuzzy. I don’t have control then, and I don’t like it. That is why I write so much. I am constantly making so notes, so that when I forget things, I have somewhere to go back to try and jog my memory. Sometimes it works, and sometimes, not so much. I never wanted to be the poster child for gastric bypass, and I still don’t. I lied about having it done for a very long time, but I can’t really do that any more. One, I can’t remember the lies I told, so I probably would get caught. Two, the gastric bypass is part of why I am who I am today. Stupid scar, I love you because you probably saved my life, and because you are there, I am in the gym again. I will not fail myself this time.
Well Mr. Shakespeare, you are right. If I am not true to me, no one else is going to be.