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One of the things I love about being a grown-up is that you don’t have to try to be cool anymore.
Still, every once a while, I feel those familiar old nudges of “you’re not good enough.” It comes so subtly. Before I even realize it, I’m walking around depressed about SOME STUPID THING I’m not doing, or not doing well enough.
This is my call to FREEDOM.
It doesn’t matter.
- It doesn’t matter that I have gray hairs, and I’m still straightening my hair instead of curling it because I can’t figure out that new (?) wavy style.
- It doesn’t matter that I don’t have bright skinny jeans that fit me or a cute white blazer and the perfect spring handbag.
- It doesn’t matter that I’m not on Instagram, and my baby books are horribly behind.
- It doesn’t matter that my blog makes hardly any money, and that my posts aren’t viral and it’s essentially an overgrown hobby.
- It doesn’t matter that I’m not famous.
- It doesn’t matter that I need pictures on my walls, and my guest room needs new bedding, and I haven’t dusted my blinds since last April.
- It doesn’t matter that my house never seems to be as tidy as my sister’s.
- It doesn’t matter that I don’t get pedicures, and I’m getting wrinkles around my eyes.
- It doesn’t matter that I’m not in shape anymore, or haven’t bought eyeshadow since 2011.
- It doesn’t matter that my floor needs to be mopped, by nails need to be painted, my car needs to be vacuumed, and my legs need to be tanner.
- It doesn’t matter that I’m not as peppy, skinny, trendy, witty, savvy, or crunchy as the imaginary Jessica is in my head.
But you know what does matter?
- I have a husband, a big bunch of family, and a handful of friends who love me, period. On sick days, on grumpy days, on fat days, on lazy days, on days when I’m not very lovable…I AM loved.
- I have two little kids who think I’m the best mommy ever.
- I have a husband who forgets all my over-dramatic moments, loves our lame, boring life, and somehow – beyond all logic – looks at six-month-pregnant me like I’m still his hot wife.
- I’m not the perfect mom… But I’m a good one. My kids get (mostly) nourishing meals, hugs when they’re sad, fun things to do, and when I fail them miserably, I ask for forgiveness.
- My sins are wiped clean.
- I am a child of God, and He made me.
- I’m redeemed, and safe, and spending eternity with my Loving Father.
- No matter how sick/tired/worthless/ugly/useless/distracted/grumpy/sub-par I may feel on any given day, I Am Loved, by the ones who matter, and the ONE who matters most.
Go confidently into today, friends.
You have nothing to be ashamed of.
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