TheFunnyThing 

The funny thing about writing (and posting) in the middle of the night is rereading what I did the next morning. 

Yeah, it can be funny. Or sometimes, not. 

I went to bed at 10:30 and woke up (wide awake) one hour later. I got up and went into the living room. I felt inspired to write. At first I tried writing about the reason I thought I woke up in the first place. Was it because the remnant of the Full Corn Moon still shone brightly through the blinds? Full moons can do that to me. But the words didn’t come easily so I knew that was not what I was to write about. 

I was talking with D just the other morning. He is looking forward to a future post about something good that will happen in the near future. But I explained that I have to be in it to feel it before I can write it. And sometimes I feel intense feelings to write about something in particular. I like to think that God helps me know what to write and when to write it in order to help someone else. Often, though, I find that it actually helps me.

As I sat there quietly in the dimly lit room, the words of Charlie whispered through my mind again and again. I felt it strongly; therefore, I knew I had to write it. 

“Mom, if a man looked at me the way D looks at you, I’d get up and dance with him.” 

I knew this was it and the scripture verses I’d include. Beauty was written and posted in the middle of the night. 

Maybe I should clarify from that post that even though I worked hard to look presentable to the outside world, I rarely ever felt I achieved it. Even when I was a runner and weight trainer. I always felt terribly flawed. Flawed by the world’s standard. I didn’t listen to those in my close-knit circle who love me more than some stranger in the Kroger parking lot. I felt I had to do my best to be attractive to the outside world. I have a terrible image of myself and I wish that I had help with this in my younger years. I guess it didn’t help that my dad body shamed me when I was thin as a teenager and even when I was 30 and in peak condition.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my dad even with all the bad that happened between us. But…he did me wrong here. He made me feel unloveable.

My mom was a beautiful woman. Inside and out. But she could never do enough either to be happy with who she was on the outside. Why did this happen to us both? Maybe it was because she was married to my dad. 

On the other hand, the world continually moves the bar higher and higher so you never can reach it. Such a stupid standard to base your whole existence. Wasted energy. Wasted time. And an anxiety that had affected my whole life. 

If my words here can help one person here figure out their value on this earth isn’t based on how the world, and all of the strangers upon it, view you, then I will be happy. And I will give God the glory. 

D isn’t a shallow man. He’s a good man and I am beginning to trust him with my vulnerabilities. It’s taking me time to adjust and work through stuff. There’s a lifetime of baggage I need to dump. But he’s here for the long haul, and I know I am blessed beyond measure.

The funny thing about posting at 3:00 am is rereading the post at 8:00 am and realizing it requires a follow-up post. It’s all good though. You all know I wear my heart on my sleeve. I write about the innermost me because hopefully, I can relate to someone who can see they are not alone in their thoughts and feelings. 

Thanks for being here, and for being you. You are beautiful. You know that, right? Don’t let outside influences define you. Don’t listen to those who mean to hurt. They hurt because they’ve been hurt. Don’t base your happiness on your outer appearance. Life is too short. Listen to those who know you best and love you the most. ♥️

Andi

Oh…and don’t forget to dance. 💃🏼🕺🏼