I Woke Up Like This.

Hello out there!  Happy New Year!  Yes, I realize that it is March, but can I be frank?  January and February have kind of blown.  I mean the SNOW, the SNOT, the SCREAMING, the WHINING (mostly by me) is enough to make anyone go insane.  So I'm putting those months behind me, and the new year starts today!  Woo!  Where's my champagne?

I'm stepping into this new year a little terrified, as I have made some commitments to myself that are out of my comfort zone.  It has been a while since I have stepped out, and I'm not sure that I am fully ready. But are we ever REALLY ready to step out of our comfort zone?  So I'm taking a breath, saying a prayer, and trusting that I can do hard things.  So here we go...

It will come as no surprise to most of you that I am a bit Beyonce obsessed.  Bey and I go way back to 2011 when we shopped together in Soho.  (Read: My friend and I were shopping at a store, Beyonce was standing 10 feet from us, we watched her every move while texting all of our family and friends, then squealed like school girls with the rest of the employees while she went down the escalator.) Basically, we are best friends.  Soul sisters.  She even cut her hair like mine after she saw me at her concert last summer.  (There is no way she saw me at her concert last summer.)

ANYWAY, while joining our world's fascination with Queen Bey, I have noticed a few things about myself.  One, I have an unhealthy knowledge about a person who does not know that I exist.  :) Two, I have placed some unrealistic expectations on myself by comparing my life to hers.  I look at her and see a powerful, THIN, gorgeous woman.  I look at myself and see a tired, flabby, average looking mother of two.  I don't just compare myself to Beyonce either.  I catch myself looking at friends, strangers, and co-workers to see where I add up.  Am I thinner than them?  Prettier than them? Are they smarter or more creative than me?  Do they look better in that outfit?  It is a never ending battle that I fight on a daily basis, and I am ready for it to stop.

I have always been known for my confidence.  I have been successful at most things, and that makes people assume that things don't get to me.  I give off the vibe that what people think doesn't matter, and what they say doesn't hurt.  Since I'm committing to honesty on this blog, I will now admit that I mostly fake it.  Fake the confidence, fake the toughness, fake the thick skin.  And that is why I am terrified to step out this year.  I fear what people might say if I show the real me.  I'm scared that people will be mean, that they will judge me, and that they will use my past to dictate who I am today.  I am scared to fail.  Most of all, I am scared to peel away all of the layers and get to the root of why I feel how I feel, because that means I will be facing some demons that I have managed to lock down for a while.  Those demons terrify me a bit.

You see, I WANT people to see this when they look at me:

But let's be honest.  Most of the time, this is how I look: 

I WOKE UP LIKE THIS.  I'm tired, I'm sick, and I just yelled at my kid.  I don't have a Glam Squad. In fact, I am confident that the squad I have over here tries their best to strip away whatever glam I have left.  (I'm hanging on to what little I have with clenched teeth & a solid grip.) I'm not the best at anything.  I'm not the best mom, wife, friend, writer, Christian... Not even close.  I'm not okay with that, but I'm going to try to embrace it.  Currently, I'm the best at knocking myself on my ass, being my biggest critic, and getting in my own way.  So I'm pushing that girl down and letting my real self step out for once in her life.  I'm always going be a mess.  A BIG HOT MESS.  But I'm ready to wade through it and name what is holding me back.  

I'd love for you to join me on this journey. I promise to be as honest as possible, if you promise to be honest too.  I promise to be kinder to myself and to others, because really?  We are all just doing the best that we can.  It is going to be effing hard, (yes, effing is a word) but I'm going to suck it up and do it anyway.  Wanna ride?  I'll see you soon! 

xo

tiff 

(Mom, I would just like to state, for the record, that I only cursed ONCE in this post.  "Effing" does not count as a curse word, and "ass" really isn't so bad, is it?  I have a problem.  I'm sorry.  MESSY- remember?!)