Wow. That was really hard for me to say.
I mean, I have all the lady parts, why wouldn’t I be able to say that?
It all started a few weeks ago. I told my friend D about my life-changing, heart opening experience in Italy. I told him I had been to a therapist, a hypnotherapist, and they all said I didn’t need therapy, I understood what was going on and why. What I didn’t know, was how to move forward… so D recommended a life coach.
I didn’t know what to expect, but when I met the guy, he cut to the chase. No frills, asked the right questions and went straight for the gold. I decided immediately, this is what I needed right NOW.
So fast forward to today, our first real session, and he asked me to tell myself (like in the back of my mind), over and over again, “I am a woman.”
For example, while walking. “I am a woman walking.” Or driving. “I am a woman driving.” Every day, everything I can consciously think of, in the moment, say, I am a woman.
I told him that would be hard to do. Of course, he wanted to know why.
Here’s why. I’m a girl. I’m just a girl. I’m a girl who likes to be free and pretty and fun. I’m a just a single gal out there, a chick that likes feeling like a girl. GIRL.
Do girls have husbands and get married and have babies?
Well, technically yes. But in the world I live in… no. Women do. Women are wives and mothers. Women are vice presidents and presidents and number one sales people. Women attract men.
Do we see the problem here?
I complain about the Peter Pans I meet that swarm about me. Well, if I’m a girl- what else am I going to attract? I’m not a wife, I’m not a mother. I think I want to be… but I sure am not acting like it.
So he asked me if I was ready to be a woman? Do I want to really be a woman? Because I can get those things I want if I am. It also means I have to move on from being a girl. Shit. I really am Phoebe Cates in Drop Dead Fred now. Except “Fred” is my youth.
What is it I am so scared of? Letting go of what I have now? I admit I get great pleasure out of people telling me I look young, that I can post pictures of insane wonderful vacations and tell tales of grandeur.
When I think of a “woman”- I think of unhappiness, boring, dependency, one-note convos about kids, frumpy, old. I don’t think of vibrancy, life, youth, adventure.
The problem is that this is the script I have created within my own mind of what represents a woman. I need to reimagine that word. What about strong, smart, loving, and devoted? A wife? A mother?
I asked several guy friends of mine if they saw me as a girl or a woman- and all of them- said girl. F%^&.
But beyond that- I think of myself as a girl. I think of myself as only a young daughter and a sister, not a mother or a wife or a partner. I am putting out there being a girl, and people have taken notice. People I attract are attracted to a girl. Not a woman.
I have been in tears about this all night- because I am ready to grow, yes, but also because I am mourning my loss. My loss of who I have been all this time. I know it’s time for me to be a woman. I just need to start getting comfortable with that. I mean, seriously, I’m thirty-six. It’s time. I am a f%^&ing woman.