Tag: selfesteem

Queen of Hearts

Once, when I was sixteen, my father woke up early and toasted Engligh muffins for me. 

But he burned them. 

He always burned everything; Leaving the ashes of his mistakes trailing behind him for someone to clean, and my fingers were singed from all the times I had to sweep his fires under the rug. 

He had even spread cream cheese on top, though most of it was so hardened that it cut the side of my mouth when I bit into it. Crisped crumbs sprinkled down onto my shirt and I plastered a smile on my face as I winced because I was so used to pretending things were good even when they were hurting me. 

My father had a shit-eating grin on face that was so foreign that I started to choke up (not sure if it was the burnt toast lodged in my throat or that empathetic, emphasis on the pathetic, nature I cursed God for bestowing upon me) 

He was so fucking happy for one fucking minute.

And despite feeling lonley in his presence, despite feeling invisible, confused, fearful, angry- 

I had never loved him more. 

No one ever did special things for me; especially not men. 

How kind of my father- though he left and he left- what other man would do something so nice for a girl like me (one who was never chosen)

So I’d spend many years accepting English-muffin-crumbs of love, from others just like him.

That meal taught me to feast on ashes and call it love.

One time. Two times. Even a a third time.

Until I was left starving.

Until I refused to accept it.

I refused to fill the stomach of another with a five course meal of beauty, brilliance, thoughtfulness, depth and authenticity with only scraps in return.

I cannot offer high-end meals to those who are used to drive-thru, and I cannot lower my value to accommodate those who will never rise to meet me on the rooftops because they are comfortable sitting in the parking lots.

I took my thoughtfulness, my loyalty, my depth, my support, my magnetic star, my beauty, devotion and love-and put it all back in my own cupboards.

I took my creativity, my voice, my authenticity and sweet vulnerability, packed it in Tupperware and stacked it on my own countertops.

I took my body-this delicious, beautiful fruit-and decided to save it for someone who earned a VIP invitation to my table.

I learned.

I finally learned.

How to feed myself

Queen’s Gambit

This last year was total bullshit.

And extremely transformative.

I made a lot of changes- or, perhaps, the universe made a lot of changes for me.

During this bullshit metamorphosis, my therapist mentioned to me, on an ordinary Thursday during one of our sessions, that my face looked a lot “lighter.”

Something has changed, Maria. You’re not hiding behind a mask today.

I looked at myself into the little box on the video call and realized I wasn’t wearing my usual red-lip, dark-winged liner, or any foundation.

Oh, I’m not wearing makeup…I know, I look insane right now…

She stopped me immediately (as therapists often do) and said insane was not the word she would use to describe what she as looking at.

You look happier, Maria. You look like you are coming back to yourself.

Makeup may seem trivial to many, but it is the armor some of us hide behind. There was a point in my life that I refused to go outside, even to run a quick errand, without foundation, eyeliner, and a dark lip on. I would never tie my hair back because I wanted to hide…this face-the one that people told me was too round, these eyes- the ones people told me were not big like Pakistani eyes should be, these lips- that bottom one being gigantic compared to the top one and etc etc etc

Nowadays, you couldn’t pay me to wear eyeliner (I mean, it depends on the amount, but for the most part, I hate wearing anything around my eyes.) My therapist was catching on to something—I was (subconsciously) shedding the mask I had been hiding behind for many, many years.

If you read my first post (which I am assuming no one did lol) I wrote about trying float therapy. One of the things that is expected during this therapy session is that you wipe ALL your makeup off and shower before entering the pool. As the receptionist is telling me this, an old part of me shuddered because not many people have seen my completely naked face. However, I am in the mindset now of stepping outside of my comfort zone and pushing myself to try new things…

After the session was over, my friend (and angel, spirit guide) looked over at my bare face, and undone hair and said, “you are so naturally beautiful.” And believe me, this is one of those friends that would never say anything she didnt truly mean.

So I had no choice but to believe her.

I snapped this photo of myself sitting in the car after the session.

And yes, for the first time, I see a natural, classic beauty- one that can be dressed up or dressed down and still be stunningly beautiful.