be a muse(d)

an accidental reckoning with self-worth, desire, and duality

What does it mean to be inspired by yourself… despite seeing the ugliest version of self?

To actually be moved by who you’ve been.

Tired. Reckless. Guarded. Unconventional. Eccentric. Hyper-focused.

You.
As you were.
As you are.
Sometimes graceful, most times awkward. But either way, you show up - in whatever form you have to offer.

Unpolished.

… but still figuring out how to hold both softness and defense in the same body without letting either break you.

a strange thing happened…

I caught myself off guard.

I had just finished wrestling the toddler into a sundress and yelling orders at the top of the stairs to a preteen in need of three extra layers of deodorant (July was filled with heat waves, and I’ll be damned if I’m assaulted by puberty funk in 98-degree weather).

It was only 1:30 pm on a Saturday, and I was ready for bed. Road trips. Family gatherings. Reunions. Homework.

All the things that took massive amounts of energy. Most packed into one day - back to back - with about 5 minutes to spare to recollect my sanity.

July has been a busy month.
Not just in events but in awakening and enlightenment.

In self-discovery.

…and this particular Saturday… the last Saturday of the month… was the one that cracked me all the way open….

Photos courtesy of Pinterest... oh... and I may be somewhere in the mix... being a muse(d).

she’s getting there…

My relationship with beauty is complicated.

I never considered myself ugly… but didn’t consider myself pretty either.

It stems from a mother wound.

A vivid memory of my grandmother calling me a pretty girl and my mother scrunching her nose and saying, “she’s getting there”.

I was no more than 6 years old.

She has since apologized.

…and unfortunately, the thing about apologies is that it doesn’t erase the damage (even if unintentional).

So, you subconsciously do things that will lessen the blow and the fear of being called ugly.

Designate yourself as the friend with personality.

Stand in the back of your “prettier” friends.

Go silent when your interests start to speak.

If they see you - cool…

But you don’t do anything out of the ordinary to draw unnecessary attention to yourself…

…you’re not there… yet.

…and then you meet someone…

…a few someone’s actually.

That make you feel things. New things.

People who awaken parts of you…

Parts you didn’t even know needed to be touched. Who make you curious about your femininity. Your softness. Your sensuality. Who make you want to arch your back more in photos, pout the lips, and learn how to smile through the eyes, and hold your own gaze longer in the mirror.

It’s more than a physical, sexual awakening…
It feels… slow yet intense…

It’s exciting.

And for a moment, you start to believe it.

That you are lovable.

Desirable.

Wanted.

Warm.

…until they break your heart and tell you your love is not enough.

They want something more.

Something that looks better in pictures and matches their dreams.

You’ve yet learned the meaning behind narcissism.

You just know it feels like being emptied.

Later, you’ll learn that this is a pattern. Later, you’ll learn what it means to attract people who want your light but not your weight.

But in the meantime… life goes on. And so do you.

With another wound to add to your trinkets of trauma.

For you to sift through in the dark.

Photo courtesy of Pinterest

let the light catch you right

let the light catch you right,
when you’re off guard and unbalanced,
soul raw,
mouth twisted.

let the mirror watch you survive,
as you struggle to put eyeliner on with precision,
and fuss with muted hues of rose and nude
while muttering soft, small spells that land on deaf ears.

your ears

you got one more night left in you.
one more night left in you...
one more night left in you...
one more fight left in you...

one more.

let the light catch you right,

to steady dem nerves
those fears
those insecurities
that keeps you in the mirror for far too long

your vanity lies
in the constant search
and expectation of finding
a version of self
that doesn’t look so jaded…
haunted by past selves
that will never come back.

Let. Them. Go.

let the light catch you right,
and shimmer in the dark and light.

let the mirror watch you thrive
in this light,
in this moment,
in all your polarity.

let it cause a pause,
let it stir up feelings,
let it push you to an evolution
of revolutionary self-worth.

you were always meant to be seen

your imperfections
an immaculate conception.

a MUSE that’s come to be

be a muse(d)

To be a muse(d) is to be moved by your own complications.
To be able to study yourself.
To know your way back home even on your ugliest days.
To be captivated by your quirks, your mess, and even the unpacked trauma.

You are imperfect.
But you are still the moment.
A vibe personified.

You are proof that beauty and contradiction can live in the same body.
A witness to self.

A vessel worthy of love, care, and connection.

You are a siren.
An echo.
A whisper of the beauty and pain behind becoming.

Still unpolished.
Still unraveling.
Forever magnetic.

Be a muse(d).

a few quick notes before you go:

Song inspo that helped this piece reach completion:

ICYMI - SUBMISSIONS ARE OPEN!

Submissions are officially open for my studio publication NOTES TOWARDS A FEELING
If you dig pieces like this - this is the space for you.

[Insert Your Voice Here]

from the mental munchies section