I don’t know what I look like most of the time.  For the longest time, number charts and simple ratios had me convinced I’m obese.  The fancy word for it is body dysmorphia but I avoid using medical terms whenever I can.  A diagnosis for thought patterns is only necessary if the problem makes you see a doctor about it.  Even though I’ve been depressed my entire life I didn’t call it depression until after treatment.  Sort of like how you’re not an alcoholic until you decide it’s true.  Just like how you can’t help someone until they want help. 

I saw my parents for the first time since leaving Memphis this weekend.  This time a month ago I was actually eager to see them.  After 6 months of huge struggle I had finally found a job and was starting to build a responsible, realistic picture of my immediate future.  I was proud to show them the city I already love and talk about how hard it was to get here but I’m glad I did it.  I’m aware my methods are the opposite of how either of them would move across the country but I had just enough ends to justify my means.  Then I got laid off.  That swept the feeble leg I was standing on and I’m left in a crumpled heap of pain.

They come and find me here, unemployed and struggling yet again with no knowledge of what I’ve done here.  I know my appearance is different but my maturity level is the impressive part.  Having witnessed my own personal growth I almost expected compassion and at least hoped for sympathy.  Instead, I’m met with the same judgement and criticism I remember from childhood.  My mother means well trying to offer constructive “advice” while narcissistically insisting she knows what I’m going through.  My father is more blunt about his disapproval though not unkind.  It’s just obvious they don’t have any idea what I’m trying to accomplish.  My concept of success doesn’t look the same as theirs.

I know many of my recent choices are not in keeping with how I was raised.  I know there are more responsible ways to achieve the same goals.  For example, when I was considering college would have been much better timing for all this existential development and self discovery.  Unfortunately, I was following the advice of my elders and making decisions based on other peoples’ standards back then.  Repressing my dreams in favor of practicality.  I don’t regret my life or beleaguer choices because I’ve had it pretty damn great for the most part.  Comfortable and cared for, I couldn’t complain for much.  That doesn’t mean I was happy.

In the past few years I’ve discovered true beauty in the world and, more importantly, in myself.  I’m astounded how much easier living life is when I stop caring about others’ opinions – including my family.  I had to move 1500 miles away from old assumptions before I felt free enough to be myself.  I’ve made a good show so far and really should only concern myself with people that support what I’m doing.  I do yoga every day and can locate inner peace from time to time.  That’s enough proof I’m not way off base.  I just need to move forward and hope loved ones still love me with a mohawk – because this is what I look like now.