I just read a few of my old posts. Interesting to go back and see what I wrote. Nice reflection on parts of my past.
I don’t know if I’ve written about this, and I doubt that I have, but I have another grandson. He’s just turned 6 months-old. I’m in love…. again. :0)
He’s recently begun sitting up and #4 had him sitting in front of a mirror. Here’s the video she took of him looking at himself:
I watched this over and over, delighted by his giggles and his mother’s joy at seeing him so happy. About the 50th time, I had an epiphany.
When was the last time I’d looked in the mirror and had been this happy to see ME?
It’s amazing to me that I couldn’t really remember lookin in the mirror without making some kind of judgement or analyzing some portion of my reflection. Is my skin looking good, does this shirt look good on me, omg… my gut, my butt!! WTF?
How do we go from simply and joyfully looking at ourselves when we are brand new and being so delighted to be here and happy to see the body that contains what is really “us” to the hyper-critical, demoralizing and picky people who find fault and complain about the very vessel that gives us the ability to live? Why is it considered woo-woo if you look at the mirror and tell yourself you love you, but you can watch him lean into the sight of himself and think it’s adorable?
You know what, I don’t even care why or how or what things lead to this kind of behavior. I just want to stop it. It doesn’t feel right to be negative to the body that made my babies, has allowed me to walk miles and see beautiful things, allows me to type my thoughts and feels such pleasure, or yes, even feel pain.
I’ll admit that it’s taking some effort to remember not to grimace when I walk by the glass, but that’s just a habit of thought I can change.
So, hello beautiful!