Know your worth, someone wise once told me. Those three words have always stuck with me, even if I sometimes forget them at the times I could use them most. Though, when I do happen to recall them, they serve me in ways that sometimes no other words or statement ever could. After experiencing a series of setbacks and challenges, it can be hard to fixate on self-worth, to internalize it and feel it. However, when I recognize that by owning my worth, standing up for myself and leaving tables and rooms where respect is no longer being served, I leave feeling relief and an internal cleanse. Sometimes, it’s as though a figurative weight and storm of clouds has been lifted and I can finally exhale and be who I am.
Going through the tough times, the challenges, the heartbreak, the struggle, all of it I believe affords us something we would never have if we hadn’t encountered it. Through my challenges, I’ve developed empathy, a deeper understanding and awareness and a desire to provide support for others or at least a listening ear, if nothing else. Serving as a sounding board for another can be more helpful and impactful than one might think; I say this, because I have my own fair share of trusted confidantes who have come to my aid more times than I can count.
Those who leave us behind, ignore our thoughts, messages and inquiries, do not define who we are. More often than not, they are battling something internal, themselves and may disengage to do their own healing; or conversely, they simply aren’t meant to be part of our stories and that’s okay, as hard as it may be to accept at times.
So I’ll end today’s post with the repeating of the phrase I began with; “Know your worth.” Know your worth, because even when it feels like it isn’t, it’s more valuable than is often realized.
There were several distinct moments in my life where I almost gave up, forfeiting the road ahead, settling for a life that did not feel or resemble me, my aspirations or visions for myself. At various points, primarily around ages 17, 20, and again at age 22, I arrived at a crossroads, unsure as to which path I should take. During these times, my mind always seemed to drift back to the one phrase from the famed Robert Frost poem, “The Road Not Taken.” In this poem, he states, “Two roads diverged in a wood and I took the one less traveled by and that has made all the difference.” Incidentally, how I first became acquainted with this poem was when I applied early decision as a fragile 17-year-old experiencing much emotional turmoil and volatility to my number one college choice. Providing several prompts to choose from, this passage was one of them. Rejected from that aforementioned college, what I walked away with was much more than rejection and the flat envelope, but rather a lifelong dance and connection to a quote that’s guided me for years to come. Resonating with me, it was the one I chose and since first familiarizing with it, it’s never left my mind. In my own life, it’s always been relevant, seeing how many times I’ve taken roads and made choices that were considered atypical or unexpected, at least to others, but to me, the decision felt right and felt like the outcome could be a positive one.
When making decisions, it often requires more courage than I feel I have buried inside me, but like this passage below states courage can be the smallest of acts and thoughts; size is irrelevant. Courage is waking up in the morning when the tears from crying oneself to sleep are still wedged in the corner of our eyes; courage is managing to take the steps outside when the call of one’s bed and sofa is loud and demanding. Courage is walking away from situations that have become “comfortable,” or maybe “familiar,” but are no longer serving fulfillment or health. For me, courage has arrived in ways that I struggled to accept; moving in and out of a college dorm to tend to my health; walking away from a career to tend to my health; walking away from behaviors that felt easier but were unhealthy; all enacted by courage.
Courage. A word that means so much, yet often needs no explaining, because it is something different to everyone. What is courageous to one person, may not be to another, but that’s okay, because the only person who needs to see, feel and experience that courage, is YOU.
It’s been said that courage doesn’t happen when you have all the answers, but rather happens when you are ready to face and challenge all that is difficult to reconcile, accept, overcome and/or reason with.
Sometimes it’s a simple bag of dog treats, a couple magazines, a coupon, or a text saying hello. Other times, it’s a walk around the neighborhood, a wave, a comment on a social media post or a simple acknowledgment, overall. A lot of people talk about the “grand gestures,” the sweeping acts that often make someone jump, recoil, look deeper or reconsider. Some might think those are the ones that matter most, but not me; for me, it is those aforementioned acts, the dog food drop off, the magazines and the small acts and nods that are most impactful and demonstrative of love, care and understanding.
My thoughts today were inspired by this very article (https://witanddelight.com/2022/04/how-to-show-love/) I stumbled upon this morning, which details five simple ways to remind people that you love them; they aren’t something completely out of the ordinary, but they contain acts that some might consider “nothing,” or commonplace, when in reality, they mean and convey much, much more than that.
Imagine my surprise when yesterday, such an innocent act of shopping in my local grocery store for a neighbor led me to an experience of being bullied as a woman in her 30’s. To me, it conveyed, we can be 3, 8, 12, 16, 33, 60, 80, or even older, and STILL fall victim to being bullied. Though, what I had to fight through and eventually accept, is that though I FELT victimized, I didn’t have to BE the victim; instead, I could choose empathy, feeling sorry for the woman who imparted that bullying upon me. She was a woman with children, perhaps her grandchildren, I’m unsure, but in any case, her actions towards me persisted the entire shopping trip. Our actions have power, whether they are towards a loved one, a friend, acquaintance, or a stranger. That person with the pained look upon their face, or the one who is desperately steamrolling through the grocery store, or who is impatiently tapping their foot while waiting in line? Maybe they’re anxious, maybe today is the first day they managed to leave their house, maybe today is a challenge set forth by themselves or their therapist, maybe they just lost everything they owned in a fire; maybe they ended a relationship; maybe they were fired from their job and have no idea how they are even going to PAY for those groceries in their cart, the one she could barely get, because a woman was refusing to make room her cart down the produce aisle. In any case, we only see the exterior of people when we don’t personally know them and even sometimes, this is the reality, when we actually ARE personally acquainted with them. In most situations, we only know what we are told, but often assume we know because of what is visibly seen.
So much more lurks below the surface and so much more can be done to help but also hurt, in countless situations. It is just as easy to be kind, understanding and accommodating to others, as it is to be cruel; or actually, to me, it is easier to be kind. Though I don’t always feel the best about myself, being kind to others and doing something nice for them or acknowledging them in some way, is often the best remedy and source of medicine and healing I could ever employ.
The moral of my post today, if you’re wondering, as I rambled much throughout, is to emphasize the meaning and significance of kindness and care; of a small act, an acknowledgment or gesture. Sometimes these acts are the ones that give someone wings to fly, hope to believe in themselves and the future and the strength to push on when the skies are dark and stormy. The grand gestures? Those can surely be welcome and wonderful, but all the same, those “small” ones matter, too, often more than one would think. Today is a great day for one of those; today and everyday.
With the final days of the year remaining, it prompts much reflection and a realization of how much I’ve grown. It may sound cliche, but this year taught me more than many of the preceding, realizing there is no need to justify who I am, where I’ve been and where I am going. There will always be some people who refuse to understand, listen or realize that even if they disagree, they can still acknowledge, respect and wish others well. Sometimes, no matter how many times we try to explain ourselves and our choices, they won’t be understood by others and though it may be a challenge at times to acknowledge and accept this, it often necessary in order to feel solid in our decisions.
There have been countless times where the explanations and justifications I offer feel like they aren’t enough and I walk away at a loss, perplexed as to what I could have said or done differently to “prove” myself, but the reality is, there is only one person to prove anything to and that is to ourselves.
Our choices, actions and decisions may not always make sense to others; they may pick them apart, rationalize them or try to convince us they are “wrong,” or we’ll regret them, but personal worth and growth does not need to be proven in order for it to be true and authentic. If our personal choices, actions and thoughts resonate within us, showcase growth and a match with our aspirations, then they could never be wrong.
Have confidence, trust and faith in the choices, decisions and in your past and know that the approval and acceptance of others is never essential to personal growth and freedom; the belief and trust in yourself, is enough.
If you haven’t already spotted the message scattered throughout social media and beyond, today is officially known as “World Kindness Day,” but for me, the choice and time to be kind is everyday. Some people may underestimate the effects of kindness on someone, even ourselves. A simple word, gesture, or sentiment of any kind can turn a day or even a life around, having experienced it firsthand. In fact, a quick run to the grocery store afforded me with a cashier complementing me on my bracelet. The bracelet, was not just any bracelet, it was a bracelet by the brand, Little Words Project, who I’ve mentioned on here numerous times before. They are a jewelry company on a mission to spread kindness, care and advocacy. The company was started by a young college student in her dorm room, eager to promote kindness and consideration throughout her campus, which eventually spread nationally. As a company with bracelets donning words such as “Confidence,” “Believe in Yourself,” and more poignant thoughts, phrases and encouragement, they are one of my favorites and I wear their jewelry, proudly.
That particular day in the grocery store, I wore those Little Words Project bracelets for a reason and for one not solely because I liked how they looked or paired with my outfit, but for much more poignant reasons. It was an emotional day, a day that was particularly challenging for me, one where I had to really push myself to complete the tasks and responsibilities I needed to. Looking for inspiration, I adorned my arms with my Little Words Projects bracelets and carried on with my day. When my day brought me to the grocery store for my last errand, the cashier casually commented on my bracelets, “I really love your bracelets, they’re really pretty.” To some, it may have solely been a quick compliment, but to me, it was uplifting and a means of being seen and noticed for something of vast meaning to me.
That one occasion, was one of the many examples of the countless ways in which kindness can be transformative. No act of kindness needs to be grandiose, costly or widespread. Sometimes, it is the smallest acts of kindness that mean the most and serve as a turning point or lifeline for someone. While an action, word, kind gesture, etc, may be insignificant to the person exhibiting it, to the person on the receiving end, it may mean everything; it may be what that person one day looks back on and realizes just how much it helped.
Spread kindness not just today, but everyday and remember, like the quote says, “No act of kindness is ever wasted and a kind thought or gesture is always free.”
Some might think a broken heart is only the result of romantic love, or an unrequited romantic love, but I can say with confidence, a broken heart is so much more than solely that of romantic love. For me, I’ve known first hand of the ability to break our own hearts, the ability to deny myself the time, compassion and care that is required of self-care and acknowledgment.
A broken heart never has to be permanent, no matter how severed or fractured it may be. With jagged edges, frayed ends, and a gaping hole, it can still be mended. Maybe it takes days, weeks, years, or a lifetime, but if it is still beating, there is still a chance. At least two weeks ago, while on an innocent grocery shopping trip alongside my mom, I spotted a familiar sight of black hair and a petite frame. She slowly walked from aisle to aisle, glancing down each one with a curious look in eye, noticeably unsure as to where to find what she needed. Despite the many years that have past since we were last acquainted, I’d still recognize her anywhere.
Years ago, my junior year in high school began as my hesitation and fears began mounting. Knowing how imperative the year was for college applications and my future, I began the year with an overwhelming amount of pressure on myself, fearful of how I’d be able to manage. My mind was swirling with rampant thoughts and uncertainties, setting myself up for a tumble backwards, unbeknownst to me at the time. It was impossible for me to know or surmise as a 17-year-old all that was ahead for me in those 9 months of the school year. Never my strong point, math class was a source of fear and anxiety for me. Walking in the classroom that year, there she was, the aforementioned woman, sitting at the front of the classroom, eager to begin her lessons.
Already my mind was swirling, carrying with me all the prior struggles I routinely encountered during most math classes, thinking back to the many long nights sitting at the kitchen table crying as I tried, unsuccessfully to be helped by my dad, who despite understanding it himself, was unable to deliver an explanation to me in a way I could comprehend. Often times, I left the classroom and kitchen table feeling defeated, berating myself for being unable to understand, wondering why I was so “defective,” and impossible to teach.
So much of my worth I based on grades, test scores, acknowledgment from teachers and whether I could quickly and properly solve the problems sent my way. Never once did I stop to consider my work ethic, or the immense time I would spend trying to be the best student, friend and person I could be. When that very math teacher stopped me in the hallway one afternoon prior to class beginning, shouting my standardized test scores at me and questioning if I had a “disorder” prompting me to not comprehend math, she did so in a way that made me feel as though I was “wrong,” and “damaged.” Instead of approaching me with care, concern, kindness and a genuine desire to help me achieve and succeed in my endeavors, I was chastised and left wondering why I was a misfit.
At the time, I did not realize my worth is not dependent upon another’s opinion of me, or whether I can successfully tackle a math problem on the first try. At the time, I did not realize that I did not deserve to be ridiculed or chastised because of my struggles. We all struggle at some point in time in life, whether we voice it or not. Struggling, having disorders or disabilities is not something to be embarrassed of, or ridiculed. For me, at the time, as a young teen, I felt embarrassed and ashamed and so my years of self-loathing and hiding began, feeling as though I was undeserving of caring for myself, or reaching out to another. That year, as the months progressed, I allowed myself to slip away, both literally and figuratively, in size and in my voice. Roaming the halls, I’d hear that very teacher’s voice, her facial expressions and eyes filled with judgment and disappointment in my inability to perform adequately.
Seeing her a few weeks ago in the grocery store as a now 33-year-old woman, parts of me are still hurting, parts of me still feels raw and exposed, but then there are parts of me who now sees what I wish I could have so many years ago; there was nothing I did to deserve the way I was treated as a struggling student, a hard-working one, who only wanted to succeed. What I realize now is that we don’t have to wait for others to heal us, or validate our existence and ability to overcome. We can choose to validate and see our own worth, acknowledge who and where we are and realize we can heal our own hearts.
Turning away from her that day in the grocery store, I felt sorry that instead of approaching me with kindness and an acknowledgment that it is okay to need and ask for help, she did so in a way that made me question my worth as an individual. A large part of me contemplated why of all people I had to see her on that day, a person who I allowed to make me wonder if I was worthy, but then I realized, seeing her that day serves as a reminder that no matter what she tried to do, or how she made me feel, I am still here and I am still standing with an awareness that I didn’t deserve to be treated that way and that my story can serve to help others. Her treatment to me gave me the insight and the empathy I can now employ towards myself and others. So while she may not have taught me math in a way I could comprehend, she taught me how important it is to recognize our own self-worth and to never give someone so much power of you that you begin to question your own existence.
Your heart and mind are worth the time and effort it takes to heal and no matter how long it takes, it is more so about the journey and the care than the end result.
Approaching my front doorstep, I could see the multicolors from afar, the familiar shape staring back at me, as it lay atop a small box waiting for me. It was a bone; a simple, basic Milkbone, a commonplace treat fed to countless dogs throughout the country on any given day of the week. It was a treat I rarely serve to my own dog, Daisy, in favor of others she prefers, yet, seeing it immediately brought a smile to my face and feelings of joy.
In a sour mood for much of the day, seeing that bone stacked on the box immediately shifted my mood. The local UPS driver, a man I’ve seen numerous times before while taking a walk with Daisy, was the culprit, delivering not only a box to be, but more importantly, a caring, thoughtful action. So many times, more often than not, I traverse through life believing or feeling as though, I’m rarely seen or noticed, walking in and out of rooms without so much as an acknowledgement. Yet, on this occasion just a few days prior, it was the opposite. It is an action still on my mind today, which led me to this very post about it.
It was an action so thoughtful, kind and considerate that I felt it would be a disservice to the UPS worker not to share about it, even if he never sees it, which he most likely won’t. The moral of this post is that we truly never know how what we say or do can make someone feel, or how it can bring someone back from a dark place or moment in time, which this occasion did for me. Noticing someone or realizing their situation is something not to be taken lightly, for we live in a world of immense distractions. Distractions are a core presence in society, with ringing and dinging phones, doorbells, various alerts, TV, streaming devices and more. At any given time, someone or something is demanding or competing for people’s attention. Yet, merely days ago, there I was, standing in my house placing the box on the table with the Milkbone next to it, with a smile on my face and my mood uplifted.
Though he may never know how he made me feel that day and even today, as I look back, I sure am grateful for his gesture and appreciative of his kindness and recognition of my fellow family member and canine companion, Daisy.
In a world where we are constantly faced with a frenzy of ever-changing facts, thoughts, opinions, ideas from others, noise from the outside world and our own fears and worries, it can be easy to forget about taking care of ourselves when we are seemingly busy tending to others. A short, but poignant reminder today, that those doing the helping, the planning, holding the conversations, asking the questions, providing care, acknowledgment and love, also need and are entitled to the same time, respect, dedication and love.
To me, care is and should be reciprocal. We are all deserving of undivided attention, a safe place to be who we are, a safe place or set of people or a person to confide in, and the awareness/feeling that we are thought of and cared for.
So many of us desire to make others happy, in particular, our loved ones, albeit family and friends. So many desire to make those they don’t even personally know or know all that well, happy; albeit customers, clients, neighbors, passerbys, or those we meet once. Though, while doing this, it is easy to forget that we, ourselves are deserving of happiness; we ourselves are deserving of a genuine smile, a helping hand, a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear. It can be easy to forget this or put it aside, believing we’ve received all we need or that all we need is within us. Maybe our internal strength IS bountiful, our knowledge and wisdom robust and plentiful, but still, I believe we are deserving of another’s smile, their genuine inquiry into how WE are, allowing us to feel heard, seen and acknowledged, sending us the message of, “I care and I am here to listen and spend time with you, whether in-person or virtually, because you matter in general, but especially to me.”
Never forget in the midst and journey of helping others and bringing smiles to their faces, that you are someone, too. Someone who is deserving, someone who is worth the time and effort of another and someone who means something to someone, no matter how often or not it is verbalized or expressed.
It was intended to be nothing more than a simple, quick trip into the basement to swap out the HVAC filter, but what actually transpired was more than I ever could have bargained for. A basement filled to the brim with boxes, hidden treasures and neglected junk all the same, in seconds, I changed the filter, but noticed a large manila envelope sitting atop of an abandoned, weathered series of plastic drawers. Having been down the basement numerous times over the past couple months, I was perplexed I hadn’t noticed the manila envelope, previously, but made my way over to investigate.
My expectations for its inside contents was negligible; I didn’t anticipate finding anything of significance until I turned over the envelope and saw the address imprinted on the front. My name, but an address not to my home, but to a place a short distance away, crossing state lines, that housed an abundance of memories, both good and bad, but in any case, tumultuous and fraught with many emotions, all around. Time seemed to stop just then as I opened the envelope, reading each piece and feeling transported back in time to the year 2008, as a 20-year-old at a crossroads in my life. Had I chosen another path, my life would have divulged in a very different, potentially detrimental path; many of us I suppose could say this about our lives, generally speaking.
That year in particular, 2008, was a year I often shudder when thinking about. It was a period of time in my life when I didn’t know how I’d make it through, or if I ever would. Much of the time, I felt ill-equipped to traverse through life, feeling despondent and weak, both emotionally and physically. The place where I landed, though it didn’t seem like it at the time, was a place of healing and a place to pause. It seems almost shocking to associate healing with that time, but in any case, that is, ultimately what it turned out to be. Some may say, to heal means to be left with no scars or permanent pains, but it isn’t true. To heal, does not mean every part is better, but it means that we come out of whatever situation or moment in time we are in, with the knowledge, wisdom and ability to continue on and see ourselves and our lives in a different light.
Circling back to the contents within the envelope I stumbled upon, it was filled to the brim with letters, photos, drawings and memories housing a sea of recollections. It reminded me of who I was or used to be; it reminded me of how far I’ve come, even though my life and emotions often seem or feel stagnant. It reminded me that sometimes, albeit often, rather, the way we see ourselves or feel inside, is not how others see us or experience our personality. The people I met during that time, some male, but many female, were individuals like me, who needed a place to heal and a place to realize all they were and were capable of. Upon stumbling upon the envelope, I wondered if I’d ever told of them how much of a difference or impact they had on my life; maybe I didn’t even realize it back then. In any case, each of them, every single one of them, made a mark on my life; a permanent, welcome tattoo, whose images and words I can travel back to, anytime I need a reminder of my place and my significance in this world and what I am capable of.
It’s funny how sometimes we find the things unexpectedly we didn’t even know we were looking for. The 13-year-old manila envelope, housing a sea of recollections and reminders appeared at the time I needed it most. That weekday afternoon, I crouched down in the darkened, cool basement and as I took in the words and images within the envelope, I received a dose of the figurative “medicine” no one could ever prescribe me; the treatment of the pause, the reflections and the wisdom that everything we truly need is always within us; we simply sometimes need a gentle reminder.
M3: Melissa's Morning Musings 