I struggle with beautiful.
Sometimes I have a very strong concept of what it means, and I get it. I’m strong. I’m ready. Other times, the interconnectedness of beauty and strength lay me to waste. I am nothing. I have to be strong if I want to beautiful, there is no other choice. This balance is not easily maintained in all stages of life, yet it has been my best solution this far. What are the options? What is healthy in pertaining to beauty in modern day women?
We must be strong. There is not a second option. Sharing the load is a nice conceptual sentiment with the interlocking of relationships, but some weights are not evenly distributed and it is useless to argue the utopia of other theoretical paradoxes. What happens in the quiet isolating moments of a modern woman who is not strong? Utter ruins? Silent ruins? A cracked foundation? A disappointment? Another wound, another scar? The questions of is it worth getting back up again? The questions of how many more times can I do this? The questions of how long will it continue to be this way? The questions of strength.
Does my value lie in what I can be, and not that which I actual am, in those moments that I am not enough? Do I hope that past value is sufficent to cover a day or a night or era of lacking strength? All I am worth today is who I am, but does it add up at the end of any given day? What is the value of a modern day woman that allows her to feel beautiful even in the midst of weaning strength?
In an age that does not love mysteries, except that they should be solved, corrected, or fixed …in such an age as this, what is the value of the complexity of a woman?
When I work on my body, good results cannot come fast enough. When I long to include others, my desire for true friendship consumingly stands before me. When I hope in this path I’m walking, I am ever-presently aware of my responsibilities and foolishness. My failures and short comings are ever before me like natives and locals of my thought-life, and they never foreigners or tourists in my mind. Agony is present with honest reality. Suffering keeps company with hope. Guilty accompanies bravery. Fear shadows truth.
I am never alone. …but my strength isn’t always sufficient to host this company. My beautiful character can be frazzled, and frazzled is not beautiful.
If I am not strong what value do I have? If I am frazzled what beauty do I have?
As a modern day woman, I could consider the titles that give long-lasting worth, and consider them. I am a sister, an aunt, a wife, a daughter, a friend. But if I choose not to be a mother do I lose points from the worth of being a woman? If I reap disdain as a daughter and a sister, have I decreased my value in this role? If I am pushy as a wife or a friend, then do I represent that despised thing of what a woman ought not be and therein devalue myself and my role? If I am honest with myself, is my outer being depreciated in value at my current age, and therein a wasteful representation of the beauty of a woman? Can any of my roles add up to being more than a disappointment if my strength lacks for a day or for a moment? Is beauty alive still in the tar pit bog of imperfection and disappointment?
These are the things we cannot ask aloud, lest someone else should feel uncomforted by these thoughts. Our strength, fortitude, and even quiet desperation are the only recognized packaging of beauty.
For those who have a moment of friendlessness, isolation, or self-contempt… I know. I get it. I hurt too.
I can’t always solve a problem in time. I don’t always pick up the signals. I can’t always forget or shrug it off. Wounds acclimate and there isn’t always healing. Sometimes the infection of inadequacy spreads. These all feel like failures. I feel frazzled. My steadiness weans. My need for shelter is meet with contempt for my lack of loveliness and I too am turned away in my weakness and I must learn to care for myself when I have no strength to do so. …because I am a modern woman this has been and will be my fate in many of times.
If I was softer, gentler, kinder, more girly …I would still suffer these fates. But I am strong, rough edged, determined, and at time brutish …and I still suffer these fates. I am a modern day woman with an age-old struggle. I struggle to find my own beauty. I struggle to find it where I found it yesterday. I struggle to know where it will be tomorrow. I struggle to congeal myself within it today.
When I am weak, I am plain and lowly at best. When I suffer, cringe to smile. When I hurt I find no comfort, no value, no super human strength… I just hurt. I am a woman in a modern age, that has not changed as much as it publicizes itself to have changed. I struggle to feel beautiful if I am not strong enough. This is my only worth. There is no second option.
My beauty, my success is I know it’s not just me. I am one face, a name, an honest moment in the history of everyday women. Women whom I love, because I know …I get it… I hurt too. I struggle with beautiful.