Since the age of 14 my appearance has been a source of income and gaining approval from others. As a result, a great deal of my self-worth was derived from what things looked like. From what I looked like.

My father recognized this and would sometimes punish me by forbidding the wearing of make up to my high school classes. The level of shame I felt in having to show up bare-faced felt unbearable back then.

This theme of “what things look like“ is one I’ve carried throughout my life. It was always essential that my home looked perfect (no more than two weeks after having moved in, by the way). And my home remained that way forever after, at least while in view of others.

And in this world of all zoom meetings all the time, you had better bet that if I was meeting with a new group of people, or ones that I felt I needed to impress, my hair, make up and home were perfect! At least in view of the camera.

When it came to what I wore, the underlying rules were things like: Jewelry must always coordinate. Silver with silver. Gold with gold. There must always be a consistent feeling theme in said adornment. Leathers had to match, too. Brown shoes with a brown bag. Black belt with black boots. As you can imagine, this all translated into little freedom in terms of dressing out of the norm in anyway.

I’m sure you’ve heard the often whispered appraisal, “Wow, she’s really letting her self go.“ Clearly meant as a derisive comment - a comment on weight gained, or greying hair, or a lack of makeup. When viewed through that lens, one could definitely say that I’ve let myself go. While it’s certainly not meant as a compliment when framed in that way, in truth for me, it is something to be celebrated.

Sometimes these shifts and changes come from a state of despair and giving up. But when they come from a point of choice: the choice to be comfortable in our own body, the choice to allow our natural hair color to shine through, the choice to show up as we are without feeling the need to alter our appearance in order to be seen by others. This is cause for a huge celebration of release and relief. 

As we’re increasingly becoming aware, our deepest need is to be true to ourselves. Our souls yearn in for this. It is why we came here. To return to that essence as we drop away the layers that no longer fit. No longer serve. No longer speak to who we know ourselves to be at a soul level. So that we can then come into alignment with our soul’s purpose in this lifetime.

The pain of letting go of our ego’s attachments can be wrenching. It can mean walking into a completely unrecognizable life. And yet there’s a cord that seems to be pulling us in its direction. When we begin to come into alignment with our purpose, it feels as though it’s pulling even more strongly. And sometimes the act of holding onto that cord requires our letting go of most everything else. Often with no idea of what we’re being pulled toward.

Letting Her Go is actually the title of a new book a dear friend has written. As I eagerly anticipate its release date, the timeliness of the title’s message seems to be one that is very prominent in the collective these days. This theme of letting go, on so many levels,  is something I’ve been hearing in nearly every conversation I’ve had lately. As someone who happens to be packing up for a move, my awareness of the concept of letting things go is especially heightened.

But as the book’s title indicates, letting go is about more than just releasing objects. It’s about releasing old outworn identities, and relationships. It’s a process that can be both painful and liberating. 

While I most certainly enjoy the affects of make up on my own appearance, the fact that I no longer feel afraid to be seen without it is a huge victory for me. I love to dress up and get “done up“, but the immense freedom reclaimed in letting go of others judgment if I don’t, it’s such a gift. It’s a gift I give to myself, and hopefully in doing this it helps open the door for others to feel the slightest bit more comfortable in doing the same.

And by the way, twice in the last week I’ve invited friends into my home without apologizing for its insane state of disarray!

Others were not wrong in describing me as having been very tightly wound. But until you’re dead, it’s never too too late to release that wound up spring and let it bounce. This is the relief and release I’m now just beginning to allow myself. Because yeah, I’ll get there when I die, but why not enjoy it until then?