Lately, I’ve been thinking about making a cape for myself.
When I found out I was pregnant, I foresaw running shoes and high-waisted tapered jeans. It was pretty bleak, in my opinion. It was exasperated by the extra thirty pounds that settled between my upper thighs and collar bone, squishy arms and roll-y tummy post-baby. I’d given up the idea of being more than wife and Mom, and while it was a hard pill for me to swallow, I did it and I made the most of it. I had a beautiful son, a wonderful family and my husband was going to provide for us. From an outsider’s perspective, I was living in my perfect little world.
I worked my ass off, quite literally, and shed over forty pounds of emotional and physical weight. I bought high heels, dyed my hair, put on some mascara and hit the town. I decided to go back to school. After spending three years focusing on being a parent, almost five years spent focusing on my relationship it was time for me to have my time and so far it’s been the time of my life.
It hasn’t been easy, but then no one ever said it would be. They just promised it would be worth it, and even in the moments when I felt that I couldn’t take another step, pressing on led me to beautiful places. I’ve found love. I love myself. I’ve never felt that way before. How could I have ever expected to have a successful relationship when I didn’t even love myself?