“I am learning to embrace the beautiful mess that is me”…
I am not perfect.
I make mistakes.
I have issues.
I make rules to protect myself from pain.
I inflict pain upon myself.
There are some days when I can’t buy myself a tank of gas. There are many days when I can fill you up. I am a beautiful mess. Complicated and simple. Angered and pained. Joyful and encouraging. Clean and nice nasty. I am full and yet I am empty all at the same time.
I am a beautiful mess, but I am not messy.
There are moments when I have enough love to heal your ills, and then I have moments when I wonder who will heal me. I will always have a smile, and tell you that I am doing great, but my mess and I hide behind that smile, because secretly we are ashamed of the mess that is who we are. You ask me how I am, and I say that I am fine, but if I really told you the thoughts in my head, you may want to send me somewhere where the rooms are padded.
I have made my life easy, yet have screwed it up more times than I care to count or remember. I have been blessed to have a life that many want and a few may envy, but you really don’t want the life I have…you are not strong enough. You can’t handle what I have been through, what I have seen, what I have heard, what I remember, and what I have forgotten. It is all a part of my beautiful mess. The part of me that is prickly and dry. The pieces of me that are unkind and mean. There may even be a part of me that is evil…but it is all a part of my beautiful mess.
I am alone many times, but never lonely. I am my own best friend, my best date, my best partner, and my best company. I have many experiences and adventures alone, just me and my mess. We have been many places, eaten great meals, drank wonderful wines, and have done things that most people will never ever admit that they did, let alone claim to have at least thought about doing it…Yep, just me and my beautiful mess.
But then I have my days, and today is one of them. Days when I just want to talk or share. Days when I want company just for company’s sake. Days when I want to be the first thought, not the last resort. Days when I want to be held, hugged, kissed and loved. Days when I want to cook for, listen to and be heard. Days when I want to explain me and my beautiful mess. And yet, that is a scary proposition for me because if I am very honest with myself, I am terrified of what you will think and do with all this information and knowledge. If I share what is the real me what would your reaction could be. Would it be rejection, loss, disbelief, judgement, and disassociation? What would you do if you saw my beautiful mess?
I have those days when I wish my mess, in all its beauty would just go away. I wish there days when it would just implode and evaporate. I pray for the day when I don’t need my mess to block the anguish that comes my way from despair, hurt, anger and beauty of life.
And yet I embrace my beautiful mess, I embrace it all. I have to because if there is only one lesson that I have learned in life it is that you have to love all of you, the good, the bad, and yes, even the ugly. I have to love, hug, accept, and protect this beautiful mess. Yes, even protect it because there are some good things in my mess. My ability to love comes in spite of and because of my mess. My understanding that every fight is not my fight comes from my mess. My empathy towards others comes from the beautifulness that is my mess. My mess has allowed me to see the positive and good in ugly and horrible situations and people. My mess has given me wisdom and balance. Yes, there is beauty in my mess, and I embrace it.
Sometimes what you see on the outside is not what is going on on the inside. My outside looks beautiful, but my inside is quite messy. I allow you to see what I want you to see and to only let you get as close to me as it does not cause me pain.
And still I embrace the beauty that is my mess, and my mess alone. I have lived with this mess for some time now. And while it is not cluttered or junky. It is not even messy, it is just my mess. It is not chaotic, it is well organized, with each issue neatly tied up in box with a bow. Time has taught me to keep my mess, so that I can put it away or pull it out at a moment’s notice. My mess is my mess, full of the things that give me comfort and yet can keep people from knowing the real me. My mess protects me. It keeps people from looking too close, from exploring my heart and soul, from getting to understand me.
To like me is to like my mess. To want to know me is to want to know my mess. To need me is to need my mess. To love me is to love my mess.
I am a mess. I am dirty and trifling. I am lazy and full of energy and love. I am a mess, but I am beautiful.