Dear woman,
For so long, you were conditioned to note your faults, your downfalls and your blemishes.
You were conditioned to find ways to fix it or to fit in rather than express your true self.
You were conditioned to judge, squeeze, pop, pinch, suck in, tuck in and critique every part of you down to the health of your pores.
For most of my teens and early 20s, I was the player, and this was the game. I would ebb and flow between wanting to be “cool” and just wanting to be me, free of make-up with knotty hair, attracting a tribe and not just a “vibe.”
I craved connection, not just to be part of group messages.
I craved deep friendships, not just gossip over coffee.
I craved fun, freedom and nature, not just tucked into the corner of a bar passing out over my last vodka soda.
In wanting these things, I felt different. I began to loathe myself for trying to play this game, feeling empty and frustrated with my lack of fulfilment.
I tried to dress up so I would catch a boy’s eye.
I would avoid asking for exactly what I wanted in case it upset someone or made them dislike me.
I would date men I didn’t even like, just to know they wanted me, to know I would be chosen.
I went to parties I didn’t want to be at, and got drunk enough to remain in denial about the fact that I wasn’t having fun, just so I could be “seen” and part of the crowd.

I so desperately wanted to fit into a box that I was not built to fit into at all.
Square peg, round hole.
Eventually, it occurred to me that instead of hating myself, what if I dared to change the game?
I began to celebrate my differences, to celebrate myself and fall in love with what I was taught to hate or change.
I began to celebrate OTHER women, to compliment them on the contours of their souls, avoiding the comparison of our bodies as a whole.
I would nourish the friendships that felt good to me and let the others slowly fade.
Of course, there were days of terror. Days that I felt I would never truly love myself or find the soul connections with friends, men and perfect strangers that I so deeply craved.
But I created a game that I wanted to be part of, rather than berating myself as the player.
My question to you, sister, friend, stranger, mother, or aunt, what if you tuned into what actually felt good and simply left the rest?
Let’s put an end to hating yourself as the player, my love, and change the entire game.