My land legs are a bit wobbly as of late- and when I say land, I mean life and when I say wobbly, I mean vulnerable. I am essentially feeling vulnerable in life. When you have committed to exploring one’s self, you tend to uncover more than you bargained for but the commitment is involuntary and there is no going back. The journey to self-love is similar to soft-sand running – the views can be beautiful and you know that you are toning the jiggly bits but it can be an exhausting process- muscles ache, skin hardens and it’s nothing like the movies portray.
MRKH, a condition which has been explained to me as a ‘genetic pot hole in the road’ has been a mammoth and gruelling process of self-acceptance since being diagnosed in my late teens. Being told at such a vulnerable and innocent age that you were born without the certain ‘parts’, that instinctively and innately define us as a ‘complete’ woman, was nothing short of harrowing. Though this no longer burdens me, it’s the scars that do.
No-one ever really stares as such or asks the uncomfortable questions. It could be in my head? Though, for something which is apparently quite ‘common’ in a teenager’s life, I haven’t seen anyone with scars of self-harming. Friends say, ‘could be anything- you could of fallen into something’ – yes, a razor blade lovely ones! However dark humour aside, I do see their kindness and I love them even more for wrapping me up in this beautiful and unconditional way but frankly, I am really upset that I chose to brand myself in this way. The process of self-acceptance has rattled me in a way that I simply did not anticipate.
So, where to from here? I tackle this in the only ways I know how- I up my yoga practice, I swim alone and be okay with that, I wear shorter sleeves on purpose and try to say thank you at compliments rather than ‘hump’ in the opposite direction. When I go on a date, I try to have twinkly eyes as opposed to internally rehearsing scripts of apology when my past is uncovered – do I say I had a difficult teenage life? Do I say how I’ve come through the other side? Do I not say anything and wait for the question to be asked? Maybe the question need not be asked?
Only recently, I was walking to meet one particular boy for a Sunday afternoon of ocean frolicking and summer silliness. But as I approached the beach, I so very nearly turned back. Why? Because there was a chance we may go for a swim. A swim! I would have to deliver my script, unclothe my past, absorb the stares and risk a potential opportunity for love.
When did my fears become so profound that I would deny myself such precious moments where the ocean and summer were to be deliberately avoided? This is when I chose to change my script.
Self-harm is not attention seeking or abnormal (as one date uttered under his breath at the end of a meal). It is not a weakness or a reason to be ashamed. My shame is stale and expired. For me during that sad time, I was finding an expression when I didn’t have the tools to do so in any other way.
My expression was fear and a simple sadness at ‘not feeling good enough’. I did this practice alone; quietly. I didn’t understand it. I just know that when I do peer down at the scars that will never go, I have an opportunity to embrace and love all that I am. And all that I will become.
As for self-love- It’s a daily mantra and opportunity to be kind to me. I will no longer apologise or fear moments in my life for I am here, sitting in a precious coffee shop surrounded by laughter, sticky-treats and books. Last night I called my parents and today I will head back onto the yoga mat with my mermaids and special one’s.
As for falling in love – never has there been such a perfect moment for my own little love affair.