My dad was always great with advice: thoughtful, usually as unbiased as possible, and always recommending the path with the most integrity, honesty, and compassion. When he disagreed with a choice I made, he usually kept his opinions to himself. But I could tell by his facial expression, his tone when he asked me questions, his body language.
As I grew older, I watched the way he watched me when I made a decision. When I refused to speak with my mother. When I was out late with a male friend. When I made a certain career choice. I watched his facial expression, listened for his sigh.
Subconsciously or not, I was always seeking my father's approval. I always cared what my dad thought, even if I acted like I didn't. I could tell whether or not I had earned his approval.
I have my own self-doubts just like everyone else in this world. Sometimes I feel I look too masculine, I'm not curvy enough, my face is too hairy, my jaw too square. I have a lower abdominal pooch (like most women). I'm independent, stubborn, cranky.
After a couple of conversations tonight, I drove home thinking that my independence and strength (both physical and emotional) is a turn-off to men, which may be why I'm single. I need to be softer, more needy. I need to not be able to do things by myself. Fix things, carry things, make things. And I began to wonder what sort of change in me I would need to make to become more attractive to men. I began to wonder how I could become less of myself in order for someone else to feel more comfortable. To like me more. To approve of me.
But I like myself. I like being independent. I like being able to carry heavy things: physically and emotionally. I like being able to fix things. I like knowing that I am aggressive enough to hold my own when a grown man comes after me when I'm walking alone. I like knowing that even if there is no one else around, I will be able to take care of myself.
I like being comfortable with traveling alone. I like that I charge forward into unfamiliar things, even when I'm scared. I like that I'm brave.
I like that I'm smart.
I like that my body is healthy. It does great things. Amazing things. And every time I do something new, or do something better than I've done before, I love the feeling of accomplishment. Of being able to surprise myself even after all these years I've spent with me.
I will never be perfect, as much as I battle with that. I will never be able to meet everyone's expectations. And when it really comes down to it, I would rather be alone than try to change myself so that someone else might like me.
I like me. I think I often forget that that's what's important. That I never have to say that I shrank to fit inside someone else's box.
And I came home searching for advice, wondering who to talk to who would tell me what I wanted to hear.
It occurred to me, that I don't need to hear anything from anyone else. I have my own opinions for me. My own advice for me. As tough as it is to follow sometimes.
And so I pulled up a quote that fit my opinion the best, and I read it to myself a few times, to let it really sink in.
When I read it, I saw my dad's hands. The image of my dad's hands is so vivid in my mind, I will never forget them. His callouses, dry knuckles, the bright white spots on his fingernails.
My dad did not have a problem with me playing football on the boy's freshman team. He did not think I should be less independent. As a matter of fact, he would not stand for me driving a car without knowing how to change a tire, change a radiator hose, he even made me help rebuild the engine of my Plymouth Laser. Twice. I learned how to change the brakes, drain and change the oil. I learned how to paint, spackle, sand, build. I learned how to re-roof the house, trim roses, re-varnish a hard wood floor.
I learned how to drive a manual transmission, pitch a tent, start a fire, carry a heavy backpack for camping. I learned how to shoot a bow, fire a gun. I did everything the boys did, not because I asked to, but because he made no distinction between what boys do and what girls do. I would not own a vehicle without learning to fix it. I would not live under his roof without helping with house repairs and yard work.
My dad taught me that if I don't know how to do something, I look it up and figure it out. I don't wait around for someone else to do it for me. My dad did not teach me how to be a man, my dad taught me how to be independent. Maybe that's viewed as manliness by some. But I'm also well aware that my dad always saw me as his little girl. He worried. He cried over me a couple times. More than I know, I'm sure.
My dad had no problem carrying the weight of his little girl. I'm pretty sure I felt weightless to my dad, like he could carry me forever without growing tired. I was never too much woman for my dad, I was never too strong or too independent for my dad. Maybe some times my dad worried about me one day not needing him (like most parents do), but I don't think he ever worried about his position in my life. He never needed to. He would always be the most important person in my life regardless of how strong and independent I became.
And if ever a man comes into my life that has a problem with my independence and strength- my muscular stature, my square jaw, my stubbornness; he will either need to grow bigger hands or get his walking shoes on. Because I've seen it done. I am not too heavy to handle. I am not that hard to love. My strength does not limit my capacity to love or be loved. As a matter of fact, it enhances it.
I do not ever need to become less of anything, to make someone else more comfortable.
I love this
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