500 words for When I Really Loved Myself
I’m fairly certain my Pinterest boards are proof I deal with self-esteem issues, my life issues also point heavily to the non-loving behavior for myself. However, as my Mum points out to me; the very idea of getting up in the morning, feeding me, bathing me, and properly attiring myself for the day is some proof I care a smidge about me…I might even love me.
Let’s be honest, I hate this writing prompt day. It is 10:00 PM as I’m writing this and half an hour ago I was nearly thinking about skipping today. I’m not a chicken, but in a whiney voice I was thinking “whhhhhhhhhhhyyyyyyyyy?” I think self-love can easily be misconstrued as narcissism or needing a wake-up call. Self-love is a little intimidating and in your face, sometimes I err on the side of caution. Better to be quiet and not seen, than overexposed. What the hell Maddie, where did this come from?
Those little windows into my thinking aside, I clicked on the Kale & Cigarette link and double—erm triple—checked today’s prompt was in fact about loving me. My attention was drawn to Kirk’s video post of him dancing to one of my most secret (not now) guilty pleasure songs. The very fact this song resides in a playlist titled ‘Saturation’ on my iPod is further proof of my guilt, Touch It by Busta Rhymes. (No, no, I’m not rabbit trailing I promise *wink*, bidding my time…maybe.) I watched his video and instantly it came to me what I could write about, confessions be damned.
I love me, I love my body when there is music in a room. The music pulsing loudly throughout the house as its own heartbeat or privately running through the circulation of my blood with headphones. Music is the tugging lifeline to a me wanting out with every step I take. I love me when I’m dancing.
My body and mind are unfettered by the world when the sounds are floating in and around me. It can be sexual and letting that out of my system is a high. Movement flowing easily from shoulder to hip, back and forth as I learn the rhythm and freely settle into it. It can be simply sweet too, motion to release the stresses of life. It is such a joyous celebration to share in these experiences with others too. As I have mentioned, my family all love to dance.
In the freedom of this movement, the satisfaction it brings to me is hard to match. It is something you can’t easily express to others who may not share your love of dancing or even music for that matter. The sultry pureness, the reckless abandonment to your surroundings (when you can ignore the doubt) is amazing. I have learned over the years to let go. I don’t care what others think when I am dancing. I have few moments to unleash in a public setting to such a feeling and I’m taking advantage. I continue to be thankful for dancing, for music, for the ability to feel so deeply what my ears are hearing and let it wash out of me in the act.
It has brought a since of pride to me when friends have remarked on my untaught skill. I have, many times, had people ask me to teach them and how did I learn to move this way. It is difficult not to laugh and not in a haughty sense, but because to me dance is such a deep feeling you either have it or you don’t. It is as though God threw me into the ocean and said sink or swim. I don’t panic when I dance, I look around, grow accustom to the fact people may not understand the shaking off of self and the tuning into that deep part of me answering to the call.
I love my body in motion. I love the falling away of the self-doubt in the presence of music.