Well, the first part was. Nerves. I changed my clothes ten times. Still unsure as I dropped the kids off at my moms. Maybe I should have worn the blue skirt. Checking my makeup. Not sure if it looks OK. Knowing a camera will be pointed at me. People will look at me. People will hear me. Nowhere to hide.
As I drove up I sat in my car for about 10 minutes. I shouldn’t have had coffee. The jitters were huge. The whatifs were in the car with me. I forced the door open and started to walk toward the building. I saw a familiar face. A smile. OK. I’m here.
We headed across the street for the photo shoot. Still unsure. These women all so beautiful. Feelings like I don’t belong. I’m a fraud. I should run for it. They will find me out. I’m not good enough. I’m not good enough. I’m. Not. Good. Enough.
Then it’s time to face the camera. Sit here. Beautiful, she says. Turn your head this way. Broken doll arms. Push out your neck like a turtle. Stand like this. Arms here. Beautiful, she says again. And then it’s over.
I walk into the building. I see my name card. I’m by a window. These women are amazing. That much is clear in about 10 seconds. They are so alive and present and they suck me in. I’m with them. I’m one of them.
Then the stories begin. Each one is like a little gift that slowly unwraps for us all. I’m moved beyond words. Transported. Changed.
When I read mine, I’m so nervous that I barely look up. Uncertain. Naked. Blessed.
The stories continue. They feed my soul and drain it at the same time.
The day ends. We eat pizza. Laugh. Talk. Share.
I don’t want to hide anymore. Take me in. Love me. I’m open. I am good enough. That’s right. I. Am. Good. Enough.