Lately, I’ve noticed something. The more comfortable I become in my own skin, the more I feel like I’m being looked at or questioned. Of course, this could be in my own head because well, like a lot of women, I spent way too long shrinking to fit in and downplaying every part of me and now that I’m trying to give myself permission to just be me it feels awkward.

 

You’re probably wondering why I feel this way. I can already see my friend Andrea’s confused face across the table from me and the words that would follow…”Who is questioning you?” or “What do you mean?” or “Tell me what kind of questions they are asking?” and the truth is, it’s not always out loud and sometimes it probably is in my head, but sometimes the questions are hidden in a look, a raised eyebrow, the initial reaction when I walk into a room, or the assumptions people start making when a woman starts changing after spending decades being exactly who everyone expected her to be.

 

Who does she think she is?

Why is she dressing like that?

Why is she suddenly posting all those pictures of herself?

Why is she acting like she’s not happy with her life? It’s perfect.

Why is she always talking about selling everything and moving?

 

Well, at 44 years old, I’ve realized something that took me way too long to learn…

Most people only know the version of you that benefited them.

Ouch. I said the quiet part out loud.

They know the version of you that always said yes even if it inconvenienced yourself. They know the version that wouldn’t dare rock the boat. The version that made herself smaller so everyone else could be comfortable. The version that fit neatly into the box assigned to her.

 

For the majority of my life, I was that woman, and as wild as it sounds, I was okay with it…until I wasn’t. The past 6 months hit me hard and made me think a lot. I put a lot of distance between myself and others and here’s what I came up with. I made a life out of being a daughter, a wife, a mother, a caregiver, a keeper of feelings that weren’t mine, an employee, a friend, a stepping stone, and a doormat. I spent too much time making sure everyone else was okay and way too little time, if any, asking myself if I was okay.

 

This sounds like I’m complaining. I know. I promise, I’m not. I’m just sharing where I’m at in case anyone else is there too. I’m not exactly unhappy, but not all that happy either. Maybe disconnected is the word I am looking for. I think I just became so focused on fitting into my life that I forgot to fully live it as me. It was easier to be agreeable, responsible, even dependable.

 

So now, when people ask, or silently wonder, who I’m trying to impress these days, the answer is surprisingly simple –

Me.

 

For the first time ever, I care to figure out what impresses me and I am actually trying to impress myself. Not with a perfect life. Not with accomplishments. Not with approval from anyone else. I’m trying to become the kind of woman who looks in the mirror and genuinely likes what she sees. Not because she’s flawless, but because she is finally being honest. The kind of woman who isn’t always trying to quiet her overwhelmed mind. Always wondering if someone likes me, do I fit in, have I done enough, will people judge me are all very exhausting and I am beyond exhausted. I am not trying to keep up with anyone. I am not trying impress anyone. I am slowly learning that the moment you stop living for everyone else’s approval, those opinions, those looks, and those questions all start losing their power.

 

So, yes, I’m dressing different, because when I look into the mirror, I want to see someone who feels like herself.

 

Yes, I am posting more pictures of myself, because why not? I’ve spent years documenting everyone else’s lives while quietly standing behind the camera. You know what that got me? No pictures of me living, loving, nurturing, and enjoying my life. I was not even a background and I don’t deserve that either.

 

Yes, I am trying to be more confident. Not because I am, but because I want to be. I have a long road ahead of me, but sometimes we fake it until we make it, right?

 

I’ve survived heartbreak. I’ve survived loss. I’ve survived mistakes that I would do anything to take back. I’ve survived disappointments. I’ve survived sleepless nights. I’ve survived parenting challenges. Literally, every single version of myself that existed before this one, I’ve survived, so I’ve earned this phase. I’ve earned the right to question my life and where I am currently at. Not because I’m ungrateful, but because I have finally realized gratitude and growth can exist together. You can love your life and still want more for yourself. You can be thankful and still feel called towards something different. You can appreciate where you are while acknowledging you don’t want to stay there forever.

 

So, here I am at 44 discovering what happens when I stop shrinking even if it’s cringe, uncomfortable, terrifying, exciting, and freeing all at the same time. I have no idea who I am becoming, but for some odd reason, I am okay with that.

 

To the woman staring back at me in mirror, thank you for getting me here. I have not made it easy on you. You deserved my approval a long time ago, so I guess now I’m making up for lost time.