My mind is fragile. Sometimes it feels like a rice paper lantern that has been painstakingly glued back together to hold it's original form. It is thread bare in some places and see through in others. However torn and glued it does illuminate and I hold on to that.
Beauty doesn't come from what others tell you about yourself. It comes from within. Beauty is a state of mind. How can I be beautiful if my mind is broken? My mind is broken? Definitely.
And so it lies there staring at me in the mirror with glassy eyes, bad breath, and an all knowing smirk. I am different. I am an enigma. An oddity.
It has been a struggle to learn to love the broken person inside my own skin. The broken bits of myself. The over emotional slightly hysterical woman that freaks out when things aren't the way I feel they should be. The angry person that hates when people are mean to each other. The person that cries at sappy Hallmark cards and lovey-dovey commercials or moving stories. The anxiety prone woman that winces at the thought of not having control over certain situations. The germ-a-phobe that scrubs til her knuckles bleed. The over active intrusive mind that shows herself unwanted images that make her want to bang her head into the wall over and over and over again just to make them stop. The insomniac that can't turn these images and thoughts of dread off even when it is three a.m. in the morning and she has to get up at six. The person who can't work. The person who is afraid to take the bus by herself because there are forty million things that could go wrong. The person that sometimes, I swear to God, has the most sluggish brain and can't think fast enough. The over emphatic person that puts everyone else's feelings and needs before hers and has trouble seeing when she is being used or taken advantage of. The guilt ridden sorry excuse of a human being that grovels in shame and guilt for absolutely no reason.The always unsure, never clear, doubter that has doubts even of what she absolutely knows to be true. The word twister that twists her own words in her own mind making her wonder if she offended anyone or hurt their feelings. The health fear promoter that makes herself fear she may have something horribly wrong with her medically. The contamination starter that tries to make her believe she has poisoned herself or loved ones with imaginary substances that are no where near the food...
These are all me. Bits of me floating around in my own broken mind. I have had to learn to forgive them. I have had to learn to accept them. I have had to learn to live with them. I have had to learn to understand them and work with them. Most of all I have to learn to love myself even though I am broken. It is hard because I wanted to rebel. I wanted to hate myself growing up. It was easier to hate myself rather than to look at myself and work on who I am. It was less scary if I just hated and ran away from the truth. But truth never really goes away does it?
Broken things are not ugly. They are unique. One does not simply throw out the Sistine Chapel because the paint is cracking. One does not simply ignore the Sphinx because he has no nose. One does not simply stop visiting the Eiffel Tower because it can not handle one more coat of paint without fear of collapse. One does not simply bowl over the Leaning Tower of Pisa because it leans. It leans that is the whole point. My mind is broken and that is the whole point. My mind is broken but I am not. These things are imperfect and damaged but they are beautiful. They are one of a kind. They are magnificent and view worthy. They are miraculous designs of life and I am too.
How is one beautiful if the mind is broken? Simple, all things are beautiful. All beings are made the way they are supposed to be. My mind is broken and I am beautiful.
Bald is beautiful. Jagged scars are beautiful. Brightly colored hair is beautiful. Being young is beautiful. Being brave is beautiful. Your weakest fall to the ground on your knees moments are beautiful. Your courage to get back up is beautiful. Your ability to be gentle when you are the angry one is beautiful. Understanding is beautiful. Misfits are beautiful. Difference is beautiful. Love is beautiful. Being old is beautiful. Being wrong is beautiful. Being right is beautiful. Nature is beautiful. Being odd is beautiful.
Piercings are beautiful. Tattoos are beautiful. Tears are beautiful. Crooked smiles are beautiful. All shapes and sizes are beautiful. Kindness is beautiful. Life is painful and wonderful and gloriously beautiful. Beauty is beautiful and it has no limits or guidelines. It simply is.
So be beautiful. Be you. Own it. Stop apologizing for not being all the things you think you should be. Stop apologizing for not doing all of the things you think you could be better at. Stop worrying that you are less than others. You are not. You are beautiful and strong and perfectly wonderfully you.