The face I see looks, well, a lot like my mother's, my mother whom I haven't talked to except accidentally for a year now, have seen just a couple of times. Not just like my mother's--my father is there oh for sure, and my Aunt Penny, yes, Hi Auntie--I see you in my face too! But, wshew, how do I say this, well: I don't recognize myself. My goodness. Let me introduce myself: Jeneane, meet Jeneane.
I wrote some time ago about not having permission to be beautiful growing up. That's the thing. I don't know if she meant it, and no, not consciously she didn't, I don't think--bear with me... I'm thinking this through as I go--but when I see me now without the influence of so much that has burdened me, I say, no wonder:
It was the her in me she had to cover up. It wasn't that I looked like him.
It was the her in me.
If she could know that she is lovable, or if she could have known that, I wonder how it would have been, well, different. Again, not better or worse, but different.
My mother, she used to always say, "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Yesterday I came up with a new version of that old saying. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, but thank goodness it can roll a ways."
You are. You know? You are lovable. You are worthy of love and health and happiness. You are beautiful. No matter what.
We all are.
So much learning, so much to learn. Fear not. I'm on the case.
