Beneath your beautiful.

I came across this song by Labrinth featuring Emeli Sande on Friday night. I cannot get enough of it. I'm not hearing it as a romantic ballad, but in the light of all relationships. 

" Would you let me see beneath your beautiful?

 Would you let me see beneath your perfect?"

How often is that the case? We put on a mask to cover what we really are. Too fearful of what the other person might find beneath the mask. 

Does the mask get heavy at times? Mine did. I set it down a few years ago. Here are my scars. Here are my pimples. Here are my bruises. Here are my stretch marks. It's not pretty. 

I believe that as women we are masterful at the masquerade. Our lives are perfect, our children are sweet and do no wrong, our marriages are happy and healthy, and our homes are sparkly clean. Inside we might say "I will never let you in close enough to see otherwise".

You know what? My life was not perfect. My parents were dysfunctional. My kids have made some mistakes and have dealt with drugs, ocd tendencies, and a divorce. Well, there you go! My marriage was not happy. So many people were shocked when I told them Ed and I were divorcing. That's because I put so much dang energy into cleaning and polishing a heavy mask! 

What I have discovered is that when I show people "me" I have deeper interactions and receive genuine support. Starting this blog has been part of that process. Taking off the mask of divorce and parenting and showing what one woman has experienced. 

I went out to dinner with Silver a week or so ago. We had a very deep conversation about some current life events. Because we have been open and honest we were able to convey true empathy for each other. How supportive and cleansing that can feel! When someone shows us empathy we are able to process the issue in a different manner. No one is telling us how to fix it. 

Let's say I come over to your house and you have a mountain of dishes. I could say "Geez! That is a lot of dishes. You know if you rinsed them right away after you used them the food wouldn't harden and then when you do the dishes immediately after you finish eating it won't take you as long." How does that feel? Want me to come over again? Or I could say "Geez! That is a lot of dishes. Which one held the best meal?" or "You've been so busy. It's hard to get to the dishes right a way." Does that feel better? A small dose of empathy can carry me for weeks. Ok, days.

As I have moved into new relationships I have made it a goal to not allow masks. Instead I share my faults and my beauties. With Wicked no topic is off limits. He knew some ugly things early on. It has given our relationship integrity. The same goes for my Gooseberries. I say that knowing that we did not have this mask free zone until three years ago. We had lowered the mask, but not fully removed it until then.

I encourage you to do the same.

Remove your mask. 

Allow someone to see beneath your beautiful. 

I might be turning into my Aunt...

This is my Aunt Ceil. Lucille Margaret Weitzel. 

I had a frightening thought. I might be like her. 

My sister would roll on the floor laughing if she read this. There are so many ways I am not Ceil.

She never married. She gave wet nasty kisses. She was a rotten driver. For some odd reason she often caressed or rubbed her butt when she walked. She wore a frilly swimming cap and swimsuits with what seemed to be steel bra casings. I was always embarrassed to go to the pool with her. She was not very good at knitting but made us sweaters. Heavy, itchy, super long sleeved hot sweaters. She was not feminine.  

Yet the other night I had a strong pull to her. I was thinking of my kids and their tolerance and teasing of me for taking so many pictures. Pictures of them, of me with them, of food, of buildings, etc. The I remembered sitting though hours of slide shows. I mean hours of slide shows. If she and my grandma went to visit a garden then we saw a picture of every flower. Pictures of me in Boston. Pictures of me at Cape Cod. Pictures of me in Stowe. Pictures of me in Mystic. Every trip was documented. 

That was where I made my connection. I want a photo journal of what I have experienced. As I have mentioned I am a sensory oriented person. I can look at that picture of the waffle I had at the Bluebird Tavern in Burlington and the smell and taste flood me. I look at the pictures with my Gooseberry Gals and I feel loved and supported. Yes, I can pull up the memory, but the picture always adds a layer of emotion for me.

Here is the other thing about my Aunt Ceil. Like I said she never married. She lived with and took care of my grandmother. I never heard my Aunt Ceil complain. About anything. She was strong and independent.  

She adored my sister and me. I just couldn't see it until she was gone. I always felt suffocated by her. 

I hope my nieces and nephews know how much I adore them. How proud I am of them. (But let me know if I give nasty wet kisses, start rubbing my butt, or am not fashionable).

I will continue taking pictures and documenting my silly life. I will try to edit and not post every meal. 

I want to be strong and independent. Yet, I crave relationships. I'll find a balance.

So yes. I want to be a little more like my Aunt Ceil.