Years ago, someone referred to my mother as eccentric, and I didn’t like it. I knew she’d hate the comment. Was she eccentric – I don’t really know. She was my mom.
However, it occurs that, regardless of my late mother’s status, I am pretty eccentric, myself. I just caught a glimpse of myself at work, with my hair sticking straight up and my clothes covered in cat hair. No matter how many lint brushes I use, I am ALWAYS covered in Rebecca’s long white hairs.
So, a 53 year old cat lady who lives alone, in an apartment over her brother’s garage…You get the picture.
All my life, I’ve been so tough on myself – why couldn’t I be normal? prettier? happier? thinner? nicer? more successful? And why on earth couldn’t I be more like everyone else?
I thoroughly convinced myself that, quite simply, I sucked.
I tried not to ‘suck’. I pretended. But it was (literally) like trying to fit a size 18 into very skinny size 2 jeans. It just didn’t work and it just didn’t fit.
I have made a commitment to myself to let myself be myself and to just let myself be. I am who I am, cat-covered clothes and all.