Dear Fear
The hold you once had on me has grown weaker. I see you, I feel you, and I acknowledge you, but I no longer accept you as my own. The following proclamation is why I am, and will continue, leaving you.…
A few weeks ago, while driving my car, I had a life-changing moment sparked by my hands.
My hands.
There they were, minding their business, helping me out by holding the steering wheel, when I casually glanced at them and noticed their wrinkled and weathered skin. My immediate response was one of disgust and to quickly look away. I have noticed the changes in the skin on my hands for a number of years now and this response to quickly look away out of disgust was not new… in fact, it was habitual.
Somewhere in the journey I had decided that the look of wrinkly, weathered skin on MY hands was an embarrassment to ME and something to be concealed…hidden from my own eyes and from the eyes of those around me. It wasn’t necessarily a conscious train of thought—this hiding of my hands—but subconsciously the sense of shame that I felt about the skin on my hands had led me to stealthily find ways to conceal them around others… so much so, that when I glanced at them on the steering wheel that day my habitual response was to quickly look away to pretend that what I was seeing …
I enjoy a snowy winter and all the subtle changes in the snow and ice and the way they reflect the sunlight (when it is out, that is). Living in Michigan for most of my life, though, I’ve heard many complaints of the drabness, a lack of color with only white, gray and black to choose from.
That’s why I suggest coloring a rainbow on snow that is everywhere. …