Tag: smile

Before beginning yoga today, I cleaned the mirror I stand in front of, it was layered with weeks of dust, and I appeared fog like behind it. Today I felt the need to wipe it free, as I did so the line from a song arose in my head, “I can see clearly now the pain is gone…”

Then into yoga I went.

I was on the third part of the Awkward pose, where I go from standing up to squatting down, and Bikram asks us to descend slowly, and I lost my control and fell into a squat and smiled as I did so.

This smile took up my whole face, my cheeks, my eyes and my mouth rose into a delightful bend, and inside I felt its wonderful wave of joy.

I smiled at my rendition of his yoga; I smiled at me and the transformation of my face and received fully my smile about me.

A smile about me isn’t something I have any memory of ever receiving.

I was shocked first at the way this smile changed my look, and even more stunned to receive its full value inside.

To feel myself worthy of a full-blown smile.

I froze for a half of second to feel such sheer delight inside myself.

My smile quickly disappeared and I struggled to smile while tears of sorrow dampened my face.

Imprinted in my minds eye is my smiling feeling being over swept by sadness as memories flung themselves upon me, one on top of the other.

A 50 year long life review flashed before my eyes, all the places where I mistook myself for being bad, wrong, and despicable, how I had not seen my own worth or how I had lost sight of myself inside myself.

The simple fact that I was unworthy of a smile from me about me is so harsh and tragic; yet it was never my smile I sought. I didn’t even know I was missing my smile for me.

The mouth I tried to change was my mother’s.

Before putting my words to paper, I spoke to my brother and then did some mindless cleaning, and it came to me what love I had for my mother.

I literally gave my soul, my insides away in order to bring a smile to her face and to keep it there.

How tragic that she wanted my smile more than she wanted my tears and my sorrows, and even more dreadful for a little girl to be left with such sorrow inside, such darkness.

In denying my abuse, she left me in the dark.

It is funny in a sad way, how I wanted her to have a smile, more than me.

I could cry a river of tears for the little girl who wasn’t allowed to feel her sorrow out loud, to be heard and valued as abused.

Valued as abused and not having to hide this fact.

I can see I took up my mother’s view of me.

My mouth and facial images reflected hers in my mirror and even more tragically inside.

Inside I knew my mother blamed me.

I took away her sunshine, I stole her lovely story, I was darker than the darkness that abused me.

I changed her smiling face to anger.

And it was my job now to put her smile back.

And I tried and danced, and pranced and worked and slaved and toiled to bring it back, and to keep it in place.

When I was tired of holding up those cheeks, when I simply didn’t have anymore to give, or when I tried to tend to myself, I heard her angry response, “How dare you Beth Ann…” and up I got and began dancing again.

Six years ago all my dancing for her was over, done, finished, the end.

I stopped where I stood and in the middle of the darkness began to see what I did for me and what I did for others.

Life offered up to me a million situations for me to choose again, their pleasure or mine, their smile or mine, their feelings or mine.

Each and every time I found the strength to disappoint my mother and chose me; I opened up inside, made room for that smile.

Today, I feel that I have made it to the other side, to the side of worthiness, or at least I have felt the wave of joy lap at my feet, I feel that I am worthy to now frolic in the ocean and swim to its depths.

I look forward to seeing another one come out of me and shine upon me and for me to welcome it in!

I have been waiting in vain for her to arrive and tell me that I am a good girl, that I am of value, and that the abuse didn’t change who I am, in her eyes.

I wanted her to smile that it was okay that I was abused, it didn’t matter to her, and she loved me any way.

Again, the smile I sought was hers and the one I found was mine.

What I love is that the first smile I was able to receive was mine!

A smile in full acceptance of all of me, the darkest dark and the brightest bright.

I smiled at me and felt Its worth.