My face is exquisite, not in a sexy way, although it may also be. If you look at me attentively to beyond what your eyes want to see, you will observe one side is very different from the other. I have delicate traits but also strong and exaggerated shapes. It depends on my emotions, what I am expressing, what I am truly feeling. I may be as beautiful as an angel and look as crazy as your scariest mental hell.
It grew like this in my teenager years. I was just perfect before or whatever is understood as perfection. Enough to intrigue my first pediatrician. Around my six months old appointment he wouldn`t stop staring at me. My mother got worried and asked, \”Is there something wrong with her, Doctor?\”. The doctor smiled and said, \”I just had never seen a baby so symmetrically perfect.\”
I guess all the struggles I went through in childhood at some point in my adolescence bent and shook me so hard that my body almost split in two different halves, such as my spirit, and I became forever with the feeling of incompletion. Until now.
Regardless all the reasons I broke into two fragments of me, bullying, cruelty, lack of love and violence, I started very early to seek for the other half of myself, often unaware of the reasons or the means. It was only in my early thirties when I was about to go through a divorce that I noticed that my left side was considerably longer and different from the right one. However, my face was still unseen by me. Unrecognized by the part of me who was repressing the other one. If I couldn`t hear my feelings and emotions, how would I truly see who I was hiding somewhere inside of me?
I moved out of the country, left my references behind, found the part of me who was repressed and released her to take over, to guide me, sometimes through the most nonconventional ways, but peculiar, such as herself. Tenacious, courageous, and fun, just so her, my inner child. Then I saw myself in the same position again, facing what I had faced before, what made me hide her to protect myself. Her ways trigger some people, people who lack all that she is, all her greatness. It didn`t matter I knew better now. I needed protection, I needed my other me, the disciplined, independent, rough, and assertive, my teenager me.
Then I realized I had spent my life trying to find not only my other half but solving the fights between them inside of my head, almost like if they were opposites, as if one showed up because the other one was not good enough. So here it goes another version, my mind said, and alongside my entire life looking for balance, the calm in the middle of the chaos, a war of emotions coming from a burst dam. Feeling too much at times or rationalizing too much to refrain the emotions. Like an average human being consumed by control or by pleasure, I was humanly stupid trying to unite them with the mind and the heart what`s to be pacified by the soul. I was once more trying to be perfect, by forcing what\’s natural in me to stay away or get close with anarchy or tyranny, constantly forgetting how to love all of me, both, by letting them be.
Oh God, it took me only forty-one years to deeper and sincerely love my two parts and as many others I might have. It doesnt really matter anymore how I split in two, all the pain and the traumas. Not for the purpose of feeling like myself, being whole in spirit. Because I am so grateful for those sides and what they have taught me. I am so happy for where they have brought me. I am so loved by me due to all the uniqueness of myself, my face, my body, and imperfections.
It is an awkward and relieving feeling this one of not needing to define me. The speech of not limiting myself has become transcendental, expansive, and more real than I ever thought it could be. I no longer worry to explain myself so I could be understood. I understand myself and that`s more than the love I believed I was capable to give me. I encourage myself; I hold myself; I motivate myself; I teach myself, I improve my soul and let it flow. I am love and I am whoever I want to be. You see… I just am!