Fall in Love With Yourself Now

I was terrified.

I'd been clinging to the old, telling myself nothing had changed that much.

But the mirror told me differently.

There were new lines on my face.

The worst part was the neck. How did that happen? When, exactly, did that happen?

Was it Covid? Was it turning 60? Wait, I'm already 61. Was it then?

How did I become a cliche, worrying about my neck?

But I also didn't want to be posting photos from years ago and have people shocked when they saw me on Zoom for the first time.

I could no longer uphold the lie that I was somehow immune to time.

So I buckled down and hired a photographer. Not just any photographer. My friend, Bree Bland.

My goal: to see myself with gentle acceptance of who I am in the moment in time.

I hoped that through Bree's lens and her loving eye, I could come to accept myself as I am right now.

That was perhaps the biggest hurdle right there.

My goals was not for Bree to make me look exactly as I did during the last photo shoot five years ago. Photo shop can do wonders, after all.

The goals was for me to see myself anew -- and be okay with that.

With light touch ups, Bree released the photos to me.

My first reaction was relief. "Oh," I said to myself, "not too bad."

But as I scrolled through them and saw all of my expressions, my eyes, some mischief and lots of joy -- I sort of fell in love.

I fell in love with me.

Exactly as I am.

All these years with these bones and flesh and finally, as my body is succumbing to time, I love myself.

To admit this is a whole other feat. And fodder for another blog; the idea that while all the self-help literature tells us that self-love is a goal, we feel sheepish when we actually do.

Yet, I do. I look at these photos and I think: "You are you, Susan. There is no one else like you on the planet. My only mistake was forgetting that."

Here's my invitation: Find a way to fall in love with yourself. Each and every day.