The Sun Rose Today

It's 4:23am. I can't sleep. I lay in bed for a while hoping sleep will come over me. A dream will coax me back into slumber. He sleeps soundly next to me. My love. My soul. It's a big and long day for him today. He has a fever. 

I quietly leave the warmth of the sheets and place my bare feet on the floor. Cool. Hard. I grab my smokes, my lighter. My phone. 

I go outside and sit on the balcony. The world is silent. Nothing but the hum of air conditioners floating in the breeze. 

 I snap a picture of the lights twinkling in the darkness. It was dark when we arrived yesterday. Almost changed rooms. This view appears to be nothing more than of a small channel waterway and a concrete parking lot. We had hoped for a view of the ocean. I wonder to what view the sun will give way. In just a few hours. 

Will I still be awake. 

I open my phone and scroll through FaceBook. Not much new since yesterday when we boarded our flight. Sweden memes. Dogs smiling for the camera. Quotes about the wonders of coffee and friendship and kittens and love. 

As I scroll through and read and smoke and think, the hours fly. Sleep hasn't found me yet. I start playing solitaire on my phone. My thoughts wander into a deluge of work, the past, the future. What will I do with my day today? One day here. Somewhere new. I hope my daughter is sleeping soundly through her cold. I hope his fever breaks soon. 

I quickly catch a glimpse from beyond my phone. The sun begins to rise. The city begins to move. It's as if the sun shyly asks permission to release her splendor. Colors begin to emerge from the darkness.  I snap a quick pic. Maybe I'll post it on Instagram. 

I bury my eyes back into my phone. 

And then it happens. For the next ten minutes I am taken back. The sun is here. Hues of red and pink and blue. The colors change every second. I am a child eagerly peering through a kaleidoscope in wonder. I don't want to miss it. I snap several pictures. 

Each one more beautiful than the one before. 

Then I stop. 

I sit back and watch. I take it all in. I am in the moment. Here. Now. I'm moved. 

I am enveloped in a warm soft blanket of love. Joy. Gratitude. I can't help but cry. 

I wonder if anyone else is watching this glory. Smoking their cigarette. Their bare feet on the cold tile floor. I wonder if the people driving on the bridge towards the sun are as amazed as I. 

I am still overcome. 

I think about how fortunate I am to be here. To be a witness to something so beautiful in a place far from home. I feel immense gratitude that life has brought me to this very moment. 

I reminisce. My journey to Now was not always easy. (who's ever is?) But my path has always been lined with love. The love from my daughter, my brother, my dearest friends whom I miss so much...they were the beautiful flowers along the roadside. Giving me hope and courage to keep going. 

My path continues. And the sun just reassured me that every little thing is gonna be alright. 

His alarm is about to ring. 

I think I'll make him some coffee. 

Dare to Be Uniquely YOU!

I think it was when I hit the 'old' age of 40 that I finally realized something pretty significant. Something pretty great. Something that I wish I had only known at a younger age…

Dare to be uniquely YOU!

Of course, that sounds cliché. I can even see the inspirational graphic that would go wonderfully with that line. Maybe a rainbow and a unicorn…or a cat making a silly face. Something cliché.

But it's so true.

When I was in elementary school I felt like I had to measure up to someone else. Whether it was measuring up to the smart girls in the class. Or the girls with the purple Jordache backpacks. Or the kids who wore the 'Roos' …

When I was in high school I still felt like I had to measure up. Whether it was ensuring I graduated with honors. Or I carried an acid washed backpack. Or was skinny enough at my then 98 lbs. Or picking the 'right' college.

Or or or

Though there was something inside me that knew I needed to be uniquely me. It's why I didn't wear big 80's hair or why I openly listened to Rush and Metallica (despite the fact my mother dressed me in a constant array of pink until I was 18).

Once I got into college I learned more about my own likes, dislikes, and did not pay a whole lot of mind to the fashion trends or what other girls were wearing or doing. I stopped trying to measure myself against others.

And it was liberating.

So in the 90s I wore faded flannel shirts from the thrift store (cuz they were affordable and comfy). I cut my hair in a short pixie (cuz it made me feel feminine and strong). I wasn't trying to stay skinny just because my friends were. And I wasn't out to get my 'Mrs.' as others girls in school (yes…a girl once told me flat out she was in college to get her 'Mrs.' which after a long conversation I found out that meant she was in college to find a husband). I ditched my pharmacy path and studied music - because it was something I loved despite the fact that it was viewed by many as a 'path to nowhere.'

Later once I became a mother a new flood of comparisons rose… Other mothers were asking me if my daughter did this or that. Was I going to stop working. Was I going to take up knitting. Was I going to wear mom jeans like the other moms I knew.

Then as a professional I was hit with another deluge of the need to measure up. Were my clothes professional enough. Should I carry a Coach bag like the other women (oh I have an entire post about the 'Coach' myth and why I don't subscribe to 'affordable luxury' - more on that later).

I remember looking at fashion magazines coveting the looks of the models. I watched TV shows where I felt "Oh, maybe I should wear this or look like that as a female professional."

Then I was blessed with reaching the zen of 40.

And actually, I think my blessing came sooner than my age… I dated someone who REALLY REALLY cared about what others thought of him. He cared about trends. In his 50's he shopped the Gap and Volcom. He told me flat out he wanted to look like a 'hipster.' Then one day, after he admonished me for something I was wearing - he asked me "Why don't you just try to fit in!?"

I looked at him, and said…"Why would I want to simply fit in.? Why would I want to be like anyone else? I am me and that's all I need to be."

I then told him what a beautiful freedom it was not to give a fuck about what others thought of me or how they saw me.

A beautiful freedom.

You've seen that internet quote, right? The one that says,

"A wise woman once said, "Fuck this shit" and she lived happily ever after."

Yep. That quote thingy is spot on.

Let me elaborate on that quote, though… that wise woman? You know what shit she's talking about? That pile which says that we as women need to measure up to each other. Or compete with one another. And you know why the wise woman lived happily ever after? Yep. She stopped worrying about that shit.

That wise woman stopped caring about what others thought of her, how they perceived her, and focused on what she wanted for herself. That wise woman did things that made herself happy. She put out beauty in the world through her actions, her words, her compassion, her unique light that made her stand out from the ordinary.

And if there's anything I'd go back in time and tell my younger self…it would be to be like that wise woman. I'd tell my younger self to let go of the standards that I held so strongly for myself - and the ones that society told me I should care about.

I'd tell my younger self to focus on all of the good stuff out there in the world and in others, rather than competing.

And I tell all women the same.

By allowing yourself the freedom to be YOU…unabashedly, unapologetically, bold, brave, daring, uniquely YOU… you give yourself the freedom to care about the important things in life (the REALLY important ones) You give yourself the gift of letting the world experience you in true form - special and beautiful and rare. And the world deserves your shine. 

There's only one you. 

Love yourself, measure yourself to no one, and leave your special mark in this world.

And you'll live happily ever after.