It's an often out-of-reach thing—acceptance.
We're told to have it in many aspects of our lives. Our bodies, our situations, ways and whys and hows in which we cannot always be in control.
Loving myself, my body, how I was made and who I am, seems to grow harder as I age. Is it because there's more of me to accept? As I gain scars, knowledge, wisdom, insecurities, weight, problems?
Is it because my eyes and ears are opened to how much more there is in the world to influence me? Is it because my resolve has more of a chance of weakening over time?
I'm doing my best to love and accept myself -as I am exactly now- these days.
I feel most beautiful in the morning.
I feel as though that's telling of a truth that often escapes me later in the day.
That who I am, here and now, before the world has a chance to touch me with it's comparisons, lies, judgements, perceptions and fears, is who I am.
My natural state.
Naturally beautiful, not because my beauty lines up with what society conventionally calls beautiful. But because this is how I was made and that is beautiful.
I find the most peace with myself and my being in these early hours. I'm untouched and unencumbered by the Pandora's box that is living in this day and age.
I've recognized that about myself over the years and as such try to hold the mornings sacred as they are the time in which I get to dictate how the rest of my day will go. It's the time in which I can look at myself internally and externally, free from outside influence, accept and love what I find and carry that love and acceptance with me into the rest of my day. Into the light. Into the world. For other people to see.