Go Unf*ck Yourself
It’s time for the tug of war to stop and for us to love ourselves.
The world around us sends awfully mixed messages, doesn’t it? When I was in elementary school we had something called a Field Day. Each class was a team and we competed against other classrooms at games like sack races, tug of war, and then would end the day with a water balloon fight. Those were the days, right? My four-hour-long Zoom meetings never end in a water balloon fight, that’s for damn sure.
When you play tug of war, there is usually a ribbon tied to the center of the rope. Each team pulls as hard as they can, once the ribbon crosses either side, that side wins, and we all have snow cones. Woohoo for snow cones!
That ribbon though. That poor ribbon spends its whole life getting ripped in one direction or the other. Sometimes it’s even stuck in the middle when teams are evenly matched.
Do you ever feel like that ribbon? When the media, families, significant others want us to be something, but then define exactly how we should be that thing, we become the ribbon. The ribbon never wins. The teams win. I feel like that ribbon a lot. Let’s check out some of the teams that are currently competing:
-Be masculine, not too much or it is toxic, and everyone will define toxicity however they want.
-Be beautiful, but natural about it, and don’t spend too much time on your outer appearance or you’re conceited.
-Live a simple life, but buy these 50 things to do that, and have a lot of money to have time and resources to live that simple life.
-Have an ass like a Kardashian just don’t show it off and it had better be natural!
-Be a better parent by working, volunteering, meditating, cooking homemade meals, but also being with your kid simultaneously twenty-four hours a day!!
Fuck. Does anyone even have to wonder why we’re all on some type of medication? Everyone I know is either on something, medicating themselves with booze, or a mixture of the two. In a world that never seems to accept who we are, how do we navigate life without absolutely losing our shit?
We all came into this world the same way. Naked, crying, and needy as fuck. As we grew up, we were taught by parents, teachers, siblings, and classmates what we should be. Who we should be like, what we should want, and the things we should like get defined for us long before we ever realize it. Then we catapult our way through our teenage years as big balls of chaos, acne, and poor decisions. Then you eventually find yourself in your thirties, good and well fucked up.
Am I Worth My Weight?
For some reason, I have an intense need to rip open my chest and invite you in to peruse my museum of damage. So, let’s take a look at one of the teams that tugs at me, shall we?
Since I can remember, I was always the big kid. Not just in weight, but in height. The world LOVES to send the message that being me means I’m not feminine enough. It’s been suggested, directly and indirectly, a man would only choose me as a last resort. Also, Roxy, shrink down in pictures so you don’t stick out as much. Lower. A little lower. Get behind someone so your whole body isn’t in the picture. No one will want to see that. A little to the left. There you go, now you fit in. Say cheese!
Yeah. Fuck your cheese.
Let me give you some frame of reference. I’ve always played sports. I’ve always been physical. I also quite enjoy working out. So, while I may not be aesthetically up to snuff, my health is always a focus for me and it’s pretty damn good at that.
Much of my life, my habits, and my self-worth have been defined by my weight and what I look like. I’ve been working on my weight in one way or the other since I was seven. SEVEN YEARS OLD. It’s the piece of me that I’ve had to lug, literally and emotionally, my whole life.
Fast forward thirty years and people around me are now saying I should love myself.
What?
How?
What the fuck?
YOU JUST SPENT THIRTY YEARS TELLING ME I NEED TO BE A DIFFERENT ME.
So, what do we do?
It’s Time To Unfuck Yourself
The work we have to do as adults is to literally unfuck ourselves from this torrent of expectations. My mom often still expects me to be who I was fifteen years ago. Sometimes, it’s your closest, dearest loved ones that continue to tie knots in us and force us to be the ribbon secured to the rope.
Doing this, the unfucking, can take a lifetime, and do you know what?
That is quite alright.
However long it takes for each of us to untie ourselves, remove ourselves from the tug of war, and peacefully eat a snow cone with our friends, then that’s how long it fucking takes.
I don’t know about you dear friend, but I for one am done not knowing what I’m worth. I’m done not knowing how to define it and how to exist securely with who I am today. I’m ready to get off this shitty rollercoaster of self-deprecation in the theme park I call “Woe Is Me”.
Don’t buy a ticket. Worst theme park ever.
Going forward, my children’s smiles will define me as a mother. My three miracle babies will define the strength of my body. My hard work to keep myself healthy will define my self-love. The trust and laughter from my friends will define me as a confidante. The dedication to creating my best, most peaceful, and most giving life will define me as a person.
Have you decided what will define you?
Once you do, the tug of war is over.
No winners.
No losers.
Just a lot of former babies turned messy teenagers, who then became grown adults who finally unfucked themselves.
Oh, and me, you ask?
I am done wondering if I’m worth my weight, because I know I am worth so much more.
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