The Ache

Today I watched a woman walk down the street
and was reminded of the ache of longing that used to consume me in moments like those. 
She was everything I believed wasn’t:
lovely, proud, carefree, confident – perfect.
I would make up a story about her,
one that convinced me that being her would make it all okay – 
would make this agony of being human simply melt away.  
Surely this was true – just look at her, just look. 

I used to obsess about women like her, these beings of supposed ease, 
the ache in my body sending me into a maniacal and frenzied state of planning.
I would do it all differently.
I would set every goal. 
I would change every habit. 
I would become this woman who I knew nothing and everything about. 

I would always fail,

and the ache would linger. 
I would see her again,
and the frantic planning would begin anew. 
A ‘you are never enoughness’ I was never able to shake, 
it was as if this was the answer to life’s most bitter question, 
that living with this particular kind of ache was both purpose and point.
Continuously attempting to claw my way out of my own skin,
I became shredded from the inside out, raw and tender to the touch – 
my offering to this ungrateful world.

Until  

I couldn’t take it any longer

and the mangled parts of myself began learning how to put themselves back together again. 

You see, when I saw the woman today I was reminded of the ache,
not consumed by it. 
This is no small thing. 
This is a victory.
Maybe you only realize how much progress you’ve made after the fact, 
when it hits you on a random Wednesday in April,
while you’re driving your daughter to dance.

Coming to embody the truth –  that we are called to be at peace in ourselves,
that we are not mistakes but rather miracles made manifest –
still feels like subversion; an act of tyranny whose penalty must be purgatory. 
It’s the story we are force-fed by a society whose systems could not stand
in the face of our radical self-love.
Finding and claiming that freedom takes time and no small amount of effort,
and here is what I know:

our radiance, if harnessed collectively, would burn it all to the ground.

Today, I no longer ache to be another, 
rather I ache to realize the most brilliant and truest version of myself – 
fully at home in the body I was born in,
absolutely at peace,

this holy house of flesh finally at rest 

in the gentle solace of her own company.