OYM Day 2: Work in Progress

Day 2. A bit of a later start than I would have liked. My 2 year old had a nightmare at the unpleasant hour of 2am and, long story short, I watched the sun come up.

That’s me in the green. That headband is in style now, no?

I thought all night about what I should write about for today’s entry. What do people want to hear about? That’s not the point, Cassie. Maybe try a catchier title like the one I just saw on Medium’s home page (something along the lines of I watched my child die in my arms and ended up being a suspect). First of all…WHAT! And second of all, Cassie, that’s not the point. I don’t want to sound self-help-ish, because I’m using this time to help myself. Plus, I’m tired of being told how to feel, when to feel, and how to stop feeling. Most of the time what I’m feeling is big and messy and won’t fit nicely into a caption. I need space. I want to write about what I need to write about.

I’m going to keep telling myself that my voice is unique and that just getting my thoughts out into the open will heal me in some way.

I don’t love myself enough. Do you? If so, tell me what it’s like. I keep hearing that confidence is key/everything/sexy/power/self love. Sounds nice! To me, I think we waver in and out of loving ourselves like you would with any other relationship. My body has changed, the loud voice is suddenly introspective, and I see the arguments coming from farther and farther away. I now choose to dip into the corner store for beer and a candy bar, instead of having to explain myself.

I want to love myself. I just have to get to know her better, first. It’s easy for me to pound the keyboard with what I don’t love about myself, so I’m going to give it a go at the opposite… stammering and hitting the delete key repeatedly as I rapid fire what I love about myself. With 4 minutes left on the clock.

I love my eyes, especially when they’re that one shade of gold. I love my smile, or my smile-smirk, because I’m choosing it more wisely (sorry old man telling me to have a nice day!) and it tells the world that I see you. I love my ability to make up songs on the spot. When I was a kid I wanted to be the female Weird Al (there’s still time). I love my ability to sense when people aren’t speaking up, even when I’m the reason. I love my ability to make people feel special and I love the way making someone feel special gives me life. I love my hair after I’ve been in the ocean, even if I look like a wet dog. I love my nose, including the dent in it. I love how my relationship with my child-self, the one who didn’t feel like living half of the time, has become something that pushes me to listen to myself and not just be influenced. She deserves that.

I didn’t know if I’d encourage comments on here, but I’d love to hear what you love about yourself, too. Open your mouth and trust yourself.