Starting over.

As a 24-year old woman, I feel like she’s singing my song, a song of uncertainty, of disappointment, and of constant self-evaluation. Every morning is a chance to evaluate what is, what was, and what could have been, which, I know, is not necessarily the most productive way to lead a shining life.

When recently in a crowd of new faces, I learned what it really meant to be insecure, or at least reminded myself of it. I thought about what I was going to say and how much I touched my hair (nervous habit).. how much I laughed at everyone’s frequently inappropriate jokes and how being in a bathing suit was, at that point, torturous. Later that night, I sheepishly admitted to a friend how I felt, and instead of feeling vindicated, I felt even more embarrassed for allowing myself to forget who I am. I then questioned.. frankly, what the hell? Why was I – a teacher, a former orientation leader and keynote speaker – afraid of a table of ten? Why was I unable to express myself beyond a hair flip and a giggle? What made me believe that who I am wasn’t good enough to be shared?

Here are the pondering questions of the night, folks: Why do we put ourselves through it, through the proverbial firing squad behind our reflections? Why do we put up road blocks to prevent ourselves from finding what was meant for us to find and for achieving our utmost? It’s the truth that we are our own biggest supporters and worst enemies. We can build ourselves up to do the impossible, while at the same time degrade ourselves so much so that we actually believe in the notion that we are less than we thought we were.

Challenge: look in the mirror today, tomorrow, whenever, and give yourself a compliment. Smile at yourself. You’re beautiful, you know. Take a selfie of your boss hairstyle that day. Do some quality hairbrush karaoke. Instead of succumbing to the habit of approaching a mirror with remorse, meet it with vigor, the way you meet all other aspects of life.

Dare to smile in the mirror and speak up at dinner. You’re much more than what’s above the bathroom sink.

And so am I.

-Ms. Slowly getting it

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