A Lesson In Beauty From My Late Mother
By Simone
By Simone
By Simone
“Work on being in love with the person in the mirror who has been through so much but is still standing.”
Isn't it weird – all these decades later, we still struggle to be okay with saying, "Hey, I love who I am."
As a kid, I remember watching my mom – she was the epitome of strength. She ran a perfectly tidy household, all while making sure dinner was made on time and my little brothers were taken care of. Often, I begrudgingly helped her with the dishes.
But the small town we lived in wasn't enough for my dreams. I wanted to explore what lay beyond the farms surrounding our home.
When I set out to college a state away, I returned home to visit but never again to live.
My parents often didn't understand my ways, although they loved me. I am sure if my mom knew I burned my bra during college, she would have gone silent.
“Work on being in love with the person in the mirror who has been through so much but is still standing.”
Isn't it weird – all these decades later, we still struggle to be okay with saying, "Hey, I love who I am."
As a kid, I remember watching my mom – she was the epitome of strength. She ran a perfectly tidy household, all while making sure dinner was made on time and my little brothers were taken care of. Often, I begrudgingly helped her with the dishes.
But the small town we lived in wasn't enough for my dreams. I wanted to explore what lay beyond the farms surrounding our home.
When I set out to college a state away, I returned home to visit but never again to live.
My parents often didn't understand my ways, although they loved me. I am sure if my mom knew I burned my bra during college, she would have gone silent.
“Work on being in love with the person in the mirror who has been through so much but is still standing.”
Isn't it weird – all these decades later, we still struggle to be okay with saying, "Hey, I love who I am."
As a kid, I remember watching my mom – she was the epitome of strength. She ran a perfectly tidy household, all while making sure dinner was made on time and my little brothers were taken care of. Often, I begrudgingly helped her with the dishes.
But the small town we lived in wasn't enough for my dreams. I wanted to explore what lay beyond the farms surrounding our home.
When I set out to college a state away, I returned home to visit but never again to live.
My parents often didn't understand my ways, although they loved me. I am sure if my mom knew I burned my bra during college, she would have gone silent.
As a child, when I nearly completed a project, I put it aside… unfinished... never to be touched again. It no longer held my interest, as the challenge of learning how to do it was gone.
My father saw this as a frustration; I saw it as I was free to explore another new skill.
It took a long time to let the critical voice go.
I knew I didn't belong in my hometown – when I go home to visit, even as an adult, I can feel that. People stay in unhappy marriages, and the square remains the same.
As a child, when I nearly completed a project, I put it aside… unfinished... never to be touched again. It no longer held my interest, as the challenge of learning how to do it was gone.
My father saw this as a frustration; I saw it as I was free to explore another new skill.
As a child, when I nearly completed a project, I put it aside… unfinished... never to be touched again. It no longer held my interest, as the challenge of learning how to do it was gone.
My father saw this as a frustration; I saw it as I was free to explore another new skill.
It took a long time to let the critical voice go.
I knew I didn't belong in my hometown – when I go home to visit, even as an adult, I can feel that. People stay in unhappy marriages, and the square remains the same.
Life moves slowly, and people seem content to do the same thing every day, on repeat.
Like my crafts, I grew bored quickly there. Shortly after graduating college, like many other Positive Agers, I became a parent in the 80s.
Do you remember the awful magazine covers? The diet fads or the spandex, Slim-Fasted, jazzercised models that we were supposed to measure up to.
I simply didn't have time for that… I was thrilled if I could get my kid's fine hair to stay in those crazy banana clips for more than 10 minutes.
And then, there were the 90s. Raising teenagers through the 90s was something else.
It took a long time to let the critical voice go.
I knew I didn't belong in my hometown – when I go home to visit, even as an adult, I can feel that. People stay in unhappy marriages, and the square remains the same. Life moves slowly, and people seem content to do the same thing every day, on repeat.
Like my crafts, I grew bored quickly there. Shortly after graduating college, like many other Positive Agers, I became a parent in the 80s.
Do you remember the awful magazine covers? The diet fads or the spandex, Slim-Fasted, jazzercised models that we were supposed to measure up to.
I simply didn't have time for that… I was thrilled if I could get my kid's fine hair to stay in those crazy banana clips for more than 10 minutes.
And then, there were the 90s. Raising teenagers through the 90s was something else.
Life moves slowly, and people seem content to do the same thing every day, on repeat.
Like my crafts, I grew bored quickly there. Shortly after graduating college, like many other Positive Agers, I became a parent in the 80s.
Do you remember the awful magazine covers? The diet fads or the spandex, Slim-Fasted, jazzercised models that we were supposed to measure up to.
I simply didn't have time for that… I was thrilled if I could get my kid's fine hair to stay in those crazy banana clips for more than 10 minutes.
And then, there were the 90s. Raising teenagers through the 90s was something else.
Not only were we bombarded with books like "Where There's a Will, There's an A" and parenting how-to's... our kids were navigating through diet pill ads, Columbine, overly sexualized tv-drama, and, shortly after the decade ended, 9/11.
And... therapy wasn't really a big seller in those days.
We had to try to navigate the world… our world and our kids' world… on our own.
If we were in tune with our inner psyche, we would spend time perusing the Barnes and Nobles Self-Help section looking for a book to give us some secret tip.
It is fair to say… the struggle was real. So, we did our best to raise our kids and give them more opportunities than we had. Shows like "Everybody Loves Raymond" helped us see that maybe we weren't the only ones with in-laws telling us we weren't good enough.
And yet, somehow, through it all, we forgot that we actually WERE good enough. We craved someone to say, "Hey – you are doing a fine job."
Although we fought for women's rights… you wouldn't know it. Most of the time, women in those days were set against each other like some sort of awful dogfight, with scathing side-eyes and judgments.
We didn't have the internet to look up every ailment. So instead, we slathered sunscreen on our kids and sent them out to play for the day. And we did our best with little help, let alone moral support.
Not only were we bombarded with books like "Where There's a Will, There's an A" and parenting how-to's... our kids were navigating through diet pill ads, Columbine, overly sexualized tv-drama, and, shortly after the decade ended, 9/11.
And... therapy wasn't really a big seller in those days.
Not only were we bombarded with books like "Where There's a Will, There's an A" and parenting how-to's... our kids were navigating through diet pill ads, Columbine, overly sexualized tv-drama, and, shortly after the decade ended, 9/11.
And... therapy wasn't really a big seller in those days.
We had to try to navigate the world… our world and our kids' world… on our own.
If we were in tune with our inner psyche, we would spend time perusing the Barnes and Nobles Self-Help section looking for a book to give us some secret tip.
It is fair to say… the struggle was real. So, we did our best to raise our kids and give them more opportunities than we had. Shows like "Everybody Loves Raymond" helped us see that maybe we weren't the only ones with in-laws telling us we weren't good enough.
And yet, somehow, through it all, we forgot that we actually WERE good enough. We craved someone to say, "Hey – you are doing a fine job."
Although we fought for women's rights… you wouldn't know it. Most of the time, women in those days were set against each other like some sort of awful dogfight, with scathing side-eyes and judgments.
We didn't have the internet to look up every ailment. So instead, we slathered sunscreen on our kids and sent them out to play for the day. And we did our best with little help, let alone moral support.
We had to try to navigate the world… our world and our kids' world… on our own.
If we were in tune with our inner psyche, we would spend time perusing the Barnes and Nobles Self-Help section looking for a book to give us some secret tip.
It is fair to say… the struggle was real. So, we did our best to raise our kids and give them more opportunities than we had. Shows like "Everybody Loves Raymond" helped us see that maybe we weren't the only ones with in-laws telling us we weren't good enough.
And yet, somehow, through it all, we forgot that we actually WERE good enough. We craved someone to say, "Hey – you are doing a fine job."
Although we fought for women's rights… you wouldn't know it. Most of the time, women in those days were set against each other like some sort of awful dogfight, with scathing side-eyes and judgments.
We didn't have the internet to look up every ailment. So instead, we slathered sunscreen on our kids and sent them out to play for the day. And we did our best with little help, let alone moral support.
Give yourself credit… no one at that time thought to write a book on "how to help your kid navigate bomb threats." And although we lived through "Duck and Cover" drills… we thought and hoped this degree of anxiety was far gone.
There is no way we knew it would simply morph.
Yet, we berated our internal minds when we didn't have the answers when our kids asked, "How could someone do this, Mom?"
We watched as years after 9/11 happened, and we didn't have the answers then either.
And somehow, we convinced ourselves because we didn't have all the answers, perhaps we weren't enough.
The thing is... that never was the case. Our kids needed us. Our friends yearned for time together. Our grandkids cherish us. This isn't because we had all the answers. It's because of who we are inside. We spent years with our faces not in a computer screen. We learned about each other and how the world ticks.
Go find a mirror; take a hard, long look in it.
The person staring back at you has lived a life of memories. Real memories – not ones conjured up from a digital image, and no option of numbing the rough parts by escaping into our telephones.
She is a vision of strength, kindness, and courageousness - a trailblazer who went against the grain and followed her own truth.
Give yourself credit… no one at that time thought to write a book on "how to help your kid navigate bomb threats." And although we lived through "Duck and Cover" drills… we thought and hoped this degree of anxiety was far gone.
There is no way we knew it would simply morph.
Yet, we berated our internal minds when we didn't have the answers when our kids asked, "How could someone do this, Mom?"
We watched as years after 9/11 happened, and we didn't have the answers then either.
And somehow, we convinced ourselves because we didn't have all the answers, perhaps we weren't enough.
The thing is... that never was the case. Our kids needed us. Our friends yearned for time together. Our grandkids cherish us.
This isn't because we had all the answers.
It's because of who we are inside. We spent years with our faces not in a computer screen. We learned about each other and how the world ticks.
Go find a mirror; take a hard, long look in it.
The person staring back at you has lived a life of memories. Real memories – not ones conjured up from a digital image, and no option of numbing the rough parts by escaping into our telephones.
She is a vision of strength, kindness, and courageousness - a trailblazer who went against the grain and followed her own truth.
And that is what Beautiful really is.
It was never about matching a magazine cover or how big we could tease our hair. Nor was our value determined by how high our kids scored on a test or what type of home we lived in.
Our beauty was in what we gave back to the world and how we helped those around us.
This past year, my mother passed away. But before she did, I was able to hold her hand and sit by her every single day.
Up to the day she passed, she still had her nails perfectly done and a twinkle in her eye. My kids visited with her, and their children helped her with meals.
And I saw the lesson she taught us about what beauty really was… and saw how each generation took the time to ensure she felt loved.
If my mom had a mirror to look into at that moment, she would have seen someone who taught the next three generations what selflessness looked like. She would have seen beauty.
You see, beauty is not an image. It is strength. It is perseverance. It is wonder. It is all the traits that make you invaluable to your family.
So, pull out a mirror and look into it. Love the person in it… because the real person is under the mask of our skin.
Love the person in it… because the real person is under the mask of our skin.
It is a soul who has been through life and is still standing.. and using her lessons to help others through their storm.
The real person is the essence within.
And that spirit is beautiful.
Cheers to Positive Aging and Loving the Person in the Mirror!
Give yourself credit… no one at that time thought to write a book on "how to help your kid navigate bomb threats." And although we lived through "Duck and Cover" drills… we thought and hoped this degree of anxiety was far gone.
There is no way we knew it would simply morph.
Yet, we berated our internal minds when we didn't have the answers when our kids asked, "How could someone do this, Mom?"
We watched as years after 9/11 happened, and we didn't have the answers then either.
And somehow, we convinced ourselves because we didn't have all the answers, perhaps we weren't enough.
The thing is... that never was the case. Our kids needed us. Our friends yearned for time together. Our grandkids cherish us. This isn't because we had all the answers. It's because of who we are inside. We spent years with our faces not in a computer screen. We learned about each other and how the world ticks.
Go find a mirror; take a hard, long look in it.
The person staring back at you has lived a life of memories. Real memories – not ones conjured up from a digital image, and no option of numbing the rough parts by escaping into our telephones.
She is a vision of strength, kindness, and courageousness - a trailblazer who went against the grain and followed her own truth.
And that is what Beautiful really is.
It was never about matching a magazine cover or how big we could tease our hair. Nor was our value determined by how high our kids scored on a test or what type of home we lived in.
Our beauty was in what we gave back to the world and how we helped those around us.
This past year, my mother passed away. But before she did, I was able to hold her hand and sit by her every single day.
And that is what Beautiful really is.
It was never about matching a magazine cover or how big we could tease our hair. Nor was our value determined by how high our kids scored on a test or what type of home we lived in.
Our beauty was in what we gave back to the world and how we helped those around us.
This past year, my mother passed away. But before she did, I was able to hold her hand and sit by her every single day.
Up to the day she passed, she still had her nails perfectly done and a twinkle in her eye. My kids visited with her, and their children helped her with meals.
And I saw the lesson she taught us about what beauty really was… and saw how each generation took the time to ensure she felt loved.
If my mom had a mirror to look into at that moment, she would have seen someone who taught the next three generations what selflessness looked like. She would have seen beauty.
You see, beauty is not an image. It is strength. It is perseverance. It is wonder. It is all the traits that make you invaluable to your family.
So, pull out a mirror and look into it. Love the person in it… because the real person is under the mask of our skin.
It is a soul who has been through life and is still standing.. and using her lessons to help others through their storm.
The real person is the essence within.
And that spirit is beautiful.
Cheers to Positive Aging and Loving the Person in the Mirror!
Up to the day she passed, she still had her nails perfectly done and a twinkle in her eye. My kids visited with her, and their children helped her with meals.
And I saw the lesson she taught us about what beauty really was… and saw how each generation took the time to ensure she felt loved.
If my mom had a mirror to look into at that moment, she would have seen someone who taught the next three generations what selflessness looked like. She would have seen beauty.
You see, beauty is not an image. It is strength. It is perseverance. It is wonder.
It is all the traits that make you invaluable to your family.
So, pull out a mirror and look into it.
Love the person in it… because the real person is under the mask of our skin. It is a soul who has been through life and is still standing.. and using her lessons to help others through their storm.
The real person is the essence within.
And that spirit is beautiful.
Cheers to Positive Aging and Loving the Person in the Mirror!
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