Little E's boo boos
My best friend Shelly's 4 year old is one heck of a little dudette. She calls me AuntE, and I swoon every time. She's my Little E...Emmi. She's one of those tough Broads that all little girls should be. Shelly said the other day that Em bolted out of the front door, looking behind her pretty much daring her parents to chase her, and ran straight off of a garden wall, flipped over it, landing right on her back. Ouch.
Once the dust settled, and boo-boos were being patched up, my mini-E started to freak out, worrying that the antiseptic cream would make her cuts go away....she wanted to show her friends at school her boo boos. She's so rad. And terrifying. And one of the reasons I do lines of birth control.
Emmi is also one of those super wise Buddha kids, that looks you in the soul to tell you a deep truth. Or to fart on you. #toddlers
Emmi once said to her dad, "Dad, sometimes if the voices tell you that you can't do something hard, just tell them 'BE QUIET VOICES', and do the hard thing anyway!"
She also had this conversation with her mom at the top of a 50 foot inflatable slide:
Shelly: but what if this is too scary?
Emilia: but what if it's awesome?
She kills me.
So back to her boo-boos. I love that she doesn't want to cover them up. She loves her war wounds.
Coincidentally, as I was planning to write this, Glennon Doyle Melton (besties with Brene Brown and Elizabeth Gilbert...) posted a TedX talk she did a few years ago that talked about this same exact thing. Rude. I really need these international speakers/my role models to check with me before they post things that I'm poised to write about.
I told Shelly that I was annoyed that I was going to write about this and Glennon just put up this amazing video that makes me look like a plagiarizer. Shelly's super pregnant and ain't-got-no-time to cuddle me and my neuroticism at the moment, so she just sighed and said, "There are like three universal messages that are being recycled out there, right? Do hard things; Be vulnerable; and You're enough. Just do it, and stop calling me. It's like 300 degrees in my bra right now, and I just #cant."
She knows just what to say. Also, she didn't say that last part, but I know she was thinking it.
So here's what Glennon and I have to say about boo boos: we're told to find a way to cover them up. Numbing and hiding and pretending that we don't have boo boos will actually erode you from the inside, and unfortunately for us, you can't out run yourself. The thing you hate that you keep trying to stuff down will always find its way back up to the surface. Always. That stuff is annoyingly very buoyant, and you can't breaststroke away from it.
<I'm super into the Olympics right now, and wanted to work in some kind of a swimming reference. I regret nothing.>
Glennon/Brene/Georgia O'Keefe say that the cure for the crap that you're trying to out swim is to make the unknown known. Show your boo boos to your friends at school. Go to the NA meeting, or to the breastfeeding support group. Go to the PTSD therapist. Go to the Pilates class that scares the crap out of you. Tell your friends that you're having a natural birth, or that you're going to have an epidural in each limb. Have one less drink tonight. Eat something that makes you feel satisfied and proud of yourself...especially if that thing is DeFazio's. Write a blog, even if you want to throw up every time. Do the thing that is really hard and that makes shame bubble up in you, and know that it's not going to be graceful, and you're going to fail a lot.
Then find a person who really sees you, and let them really see you. Let them show their boo boos too, and don't let them try to cover them up. Those people who think that they are a disaster are the ones that are at least wearing their scars on the outside, and it's just a little easier if you have a friend.
I hope I get to do one thing today that will make Little E say, "Cool, AuntE."