Unapologetically me. Sorta.

I find that I’m on this constant journey to find myself. I soul search on the daily and I journal like mad and I post the most amazing quotes I find on Pinterest to Facebook and Instagram.  Recently I even found myself almost in tears reading one of my friends Facebook posts about accepting herself, flaws and all. I make vision boards with my daughter and I paste uplifting words and positive affirmations all over the canvas. I tape poems and positive thoughts to my bathroom mirror so I’m reminded of that goodness every single day. Yet, I find myself apologizing for the way I am, all of the time.

I have come to this realization since I have been back in the dating scene. It’s one thing when you have been married for a while or have been with someone for many years. That person has seen you in your darkest hours. They have witnessed those moments when you have cried so hard you have no tears left to possibly generate and you wake up with your eyes swollen shut. They care for you when you are violently ill from the stomach flu. They have watched you push a little human out of your body, and are absolutely convinced that you are the most beautiful woman at that very moment you want to punch them in their face as they are telling you to breathe calmly. They have seen you in all your glory stepping out of the shower without an ounce of makeup on or under garments to hide any imperfections you think you may have. My point is, there is a comfort level you reach with someone after you spend a good amount of time with them. In dating, you don’t have that.

I find myself apologizing on a consistent basis. When they offer to pick me up at my house for a first date, I say no for two reasons. First, because I don’t want them to kill me. Secondly, I don’t want them to judge me. I’m 35 years old and live in a 2 bedroom apartment. Now, the first reason is legit, but the second?!?! Lame. Sorry, but I admit it. It’s crazy, I know it is, but I think of it. Ok, so when I’m dating someone and they want to come by after I get off of work, I’m terrified. Is my house clean enough? Did my daughter flush the toilet this morning? Are there spots on my mirror? Will I have time to freshen up when I get home? I don’t want him to see me in my work outfit. Not cute. Not sexy. But then again, I don’t want him to see me in what I really wear when I get home after work….sweats, tank top, hair up in a messy bun, no makeup. Are my favorite jeans washed? Do they even fit me anymore? What top will I wear? It’s 100 degrees out but I don’t want to wear a tank top because I hate my arms. I can’t wear the top I really want to wear if I pair it with those jeans because I can’t button them and it will be noticeable. I need to wear a peasant top, but the bra I have to wear is in the hamper and I haven’t done laundry in 2 weeks. My hair is a mess because I ran out of my favorite product and I can’t afford to replace it. So, I have to pull my hair back, but I can’t find a hair tie or bobby pins because my daughter takes them all. Sigh.

My point is, I find myself apologizing for everything. Sorry I look like crap. You can come over, but sorry my house is small. Sorry I wont be wearing any makeup. Sorry my bed isn’t made. Sorry my kitchen smells like a dead rat. I didn’t want to take the trash out. It was too late, too dark, and well….I didn’t want to. I also didn’t feel like scrubbing the ring around my toilet. I certainly didn’t want to wear jeans because I have put on some weight and I’m much more comfortable in my yoga pants. And no, I don’t do yoga, I just wear them because of the elastic waistband. I’m not wearing any makeup because I wear a pound of it every single day to work, so when I get home, it’s the first to come off.

I am imperfect in many ways. I have a heart bigger than my body. I speak way too loud and I have no filter when it comes to expressing my thoughts. I cry when I see those damn SPCA commercials. Every. Single. Time. I sing like a champ in my car, and I’m convinced I sound just like the artist. Sometimes even better. I eat popcorn for dinner from time to time. Sometimes I drink an entire bottle of wine in the evening. Solo. I laugh at my own jokes. My feelings get hurt really easily. I fall in love sometimes way too fast and way too hard. I am just who I am and who I’m meant to be, and I’m sorry, but I’m just ok with that. I think.