Feminism – MEyeStories

Unconditional love is a concept highly sought after by humans. The idea that we could find someone to love no matter what. The trick to the idea of “unconditional” is that “no matter what” includes loving under any circumstance: being badly hurt/mistreated, distance in time and space, unmet or ignored needs, betrayal, judgement… When I really began to examine love in unconditional terms, well, it’s a tall order. Experience has taught me that conditional love is more comfortable. I’ve had many friendships/relationships end because together, we weren’t meeting one another’s expectations and so it was easier to move on than to fight for the love.

What I’ve recently learned, is that to purely love another being or thy self, no matter what, is where true connection lies. I’m beginning to awaken to the possibility that to learn how to love to myself will set me free and create beautiful, meaningful relationships in the process.

Let’s back it up though, this wisdom and pondering of love was actually born out of a truly ridiculous circumstance. I write this today, squinting a bit, because I can’t quite see clearly out of my right eye. My eyelid is taking a temporary reprieve from its normal duties to rest under the unintentional (leaking), toxic, penalization of its acting muscles. You read it right, my eyelid is actually paralyzed, because of toxins, that I intentionally injected into my face, because I was hoping that shooting said toxins into my face, would somehow make me more beautiful.

Here I have two very interesting sets of circumstances; the need for something to make me feel more beautiful, lovable really, and the hope of cultivating true unconditional self-love. And while I thought I had the ladder figured out, I’m beginning to question whether or not this ‘self-love” rhetoric that’s moving through social media and touted by the likes of Oprah and Gwyneth, has come without certain limitations or caveats, for me anyway.

I remember being a little girl who lived for getting dressed up. I wore a dress every day and when the weather was too cold in the Colorado climate in which I was raised, I struck a deal with my Dad that I would anchor pants under any said dress. No matter what, I insisted on wearing a dress, preferably in a hue of purple. I’m not sure where this idea came from? I know that some of my earliest memories of being in public with my Mom where filled with strangers stopping us and saying “what a beautiful little girl!” “Look at her in that dress!” What came first; the compliments or my keen sense of feminine styling? All I know is, that from an early age I began to correlate that looking “good” would allot me a certain level of positive feedback and what I perceived to be love.

I can recall my Mom brushing my hair for hours…I learned how to blow out my own hair by the age of six. That’s right “blow out,” because my natural curls where for some reason in need of un doing; their natural ability to flow needed to be controlled and set into a certain place, to perform a certain way. Yes, that’s a metaphor …the ritual I was performing on my hair laid the foundation for how I started be.

Throughout my life I have presented my body, clothes, personality, interests in a way that I’ve felt (through years of feedback and domestication) would garner me love and acceptance. I assumed, that love was contingent on my meeting certain needs for others/myself and expectations from society. Thus, I have made it a full time job to maintain my beauty, weight, fun personality and now, youth, in order to remain loved.

I have recently been reminded by my spiritual teacher this truth, “I have value simply because I exist. My value as an individual is immeasurable.” This truth applies to EVERYONE.

I have been working on loving and accepting myself for years, but this reminder was really needed recently after the whole eyelid incident. So, if we are put on this earth to simply be and contribute to the world through our uniqueness and individually miraculous contributions, why is it that so many of us learn at an early age to not honor that individuality? I can’t believe it’s as simple as media projections and societal expectations… I’m sure these elements of influence have been around in some form since caveman, but if our truest purpose is to just exist, why are we bending over backwards to in-authenticate our experiences?

The answer for me goes back to those early years in the lavender dresses and the perfect blowouts. It seems simple, but I can trace the feedback that led me down a belief system that love is conditional and acceptance is earned through beauty and a sense of ease (especially for woman). I started receiving messages about my personality, appearance and likability from the time I’ve had awareness about my social place in the world. Up until very recently, I decided to match that feedback with the careful curation of my appearance. And up until 8 weeks ago, when I paralyzed my face to the point of temporary blindness, I started to white knuckle my physical youth.

Let’s be clear, I don’t think the importance of physical appearance (health, style, cleanliness) is without merit. If you know me, you know I love clothes, because it’s my form of artistic expressions. The value of this discussion is in encouraging my fellow humans to step back and ask ourselves how all of our choices are making us feel? Do our choices feel good because they enrich our experiences or are they feeling necessary in order gain acceptance or an outcome? Am I paralyzing my face because I truly feel that a wrinkle-free face is aiding my peace and happiness or because I want to post a “perfect” picture on social media for validation?

I’ve also been taught that suffering is derived from needing “things” to be different than they intrinsically are. So why do we feel so comfortable identifying with suffering and always striving for this “better?” What if what is (within ourselves/who we are) is just enough? I’m sorry for all of the rhetorical questions, but I am truly curious!

Not being able to physically see has given me the clearest vision I’ve ever had about myself and my need for unconditional self love. My currency in this world has little if nothing to do with the lines on my forehead or the pounds around my waste. It is true that we live in a society where being thin and beautiful is associated with success, love, adoration, attention and ultimately power. But if we can go back to this truth; we are valuable and powerful simply because we exist, and we choose to truly believe in this truth, what magic could come of that?

What if we spent less time in the mirror and more time within ourselves cultivating ultimate acceptance and true love that is absolute? What if we rewarded little kids with feedback about their acts of kindness and contributions instead of their appearances and outfit choices? We would all probably find, at least a little peace and create thoughts that center more around love and less around fear.

If I am always loving; myself, you, everyone (on some level), aren’t I creating all of the beauty that the world really needs? I tend to lean towards, yes.

Contemplating — Always searching for the truth

Have you heard Drake’s song “No New Friends…?” The message in this song is; due to Drake’s newfound fame/money flush existence, he’d like to keep newcomers, with unclear intentions out of his inner circle. It seems that he has an existing group of confidants and is not looking to recruit “new friends.” He proclaims, on repeat, that he only stays down with “my day one ni**as.” I contemplate this idea as a 38-year-old mother and not a famous, 30-year-old rapper. It is amazing the parallels I can draw from this notion of “no new friends,” both as the one wanting to be the “new friend,” and the one who feels most comfortable with my “day one”’s.

The difference between Drake and I, and clearly there are a few, but for the sake of keeping this succinct, let’s just point out the obvious. I am a non-famous, woman, who can rap, BUT, my daily life requires the more mundane tasks of preschool drop-off and various forms of cleaning. Thus, my social life is likely less volatile and/or desirable. However, making friends as an adult woman/mom has a similar theme to a famous rap crew.

You see, the woman who have been in the same mom-gang since their kids where born, or moved into their current neighborhood at the same time as said child’s birth, have developed a desirable ‘crew-life.’ For these crews, geography, life circumstance and general social classes aligned for them from the get, thus creating a friend-making all-you-can-hang-buffet. And now that crew is established, trying to join can be tricky, if not impossible. Is my “groupie” “rap crew” analogy making any sense?

I find myself on the in and outside of the “no, new friends,” motto. I’m on the outside as I’ve entered a community after its creation, thus making me the “new friend.” However, I have my own close friends; they do not share my neighborhood or life circumstances, but they are my ‘day one’’s. And now I’m finding myself looking for “new friends,” while also proceeding with some pretty serious caution. I’m starting think that exercising such caution has been limiting my experience and leaving me consequently lonely.

It really doesn’t matter what stage of life you’re in, making new friends can be complicated and loaded with fear and land mines. Entering into a new group is really about your ‘box’. No, not your vagina… your packaging, your attributes that make you relatable. Think about your box, what type of packaging are you working with? Does it have a nice cellophane screen so that others can easily know what’s inside? Does your box contain enough room for the contents of your soul?

You see, your box is how others identify you. Your packaging is how others know whether they can or cannot handle you. So, if your box is the same shape as other boxes, you can join that stack!

I don’t have a box. I am box-less; Identity-less really. You may think, EVERYONE has to have an identity, but the truth is, everyone has a persona (likes, dislikes, conditioned preferences). I have never been defined by any one thing; I don’t really know my ethnic background; my social and monetary status is ambiguous and I have no singular talent. My likes and dislikes change all of the time, while containing a few intrinsic truths. But, I’m without a ‘typical’ box. I am unable to be categorized on sight. For me, making friends is a process that must be rooted in love, acceptance and authenticity…not always common when newly sniffing the butts of strangers;-)

The point of sharing this is to shed light on the complications of building true bonds and connections. It’s no one’s fault. Everyone is conditioned to align with those that feel safe, and can be defined or associated with familiarity. It is egoic and human to desire bonds that elevate one’s status and/or feelings of belonging.

I find myself in this new (neighborhood, son’s school) place in the life, where it’s as though I’m a bit late to the ball. I’ve arrived but everyone is already seated at their tables and engaged in a dialogue that began what seems like a lifetime ago. I’m also not exercising much bravery in my situation. I could find an empty chair, bring my truth to the table in order to find a community…but I haven’t. It’s the old “chicken and the egg;” which came first? Does the person hatch new opportunities in order to join a community, or do the opportunities hatch from being a part of the new community?

For now, I’ve assigned myself the task of entering into all social dynamics with an open heart and a conduit of love and peace. Maybe that’s how the community begins, with a core of energy that engages new people and draws them together for a shared experience.

Category: Feminism

Whats self love got to do with it?

No New Friends