TRC #9 - The comfort I wish I had achieved years ago
Encouraging creatives to follow their passion
HELLO, GORGEOUS
Welcome to the first edition of The Renegade Collective in the new version.
Today, I bring some words from a writer friend that I read a few weeks ago and that came back to me while I was biking through Rio. While writing my thoughts there was this one song in my head that you will hear while reading this edition. Don't forget to pour yourself some fresh black coffee, get into your pigeon pose, hit play, and read along with me.
RENEGADE: The comfort I wish I had achieved years ago.
You know those friends that life gives you by a stroke of luck, whom you haven't seen in a long time, but the conversation and connection remain alive? I have one of those, and he is an incredibly sensitive writer. These days, I had the privilege of receiving a text from him, with a very intimate account that made me shed more tears than the Nossa Senhora da Paz subway station had ever seen before. And the first tear trickled down when I read this sentence:
“I thought about the younger version of myself that would accept hideous situations in exchange for some attention. Of how much I fought for some people to accept me. I started to miss everything I didn't live".
If you read my last newsletter or follow me on Instagram, you already know that I recently accepted a super challenge with an amazing Brazilian fashion brand and returned to work in retail. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you can read more about it here.
Last week, I started as the head of retail at Haight, and I had to rush to Rio with just a carry-on suitcase a few days earlier to make it to the office on time for my first day. After an intense week of work - and a Saturday visiting stores and buying clothes to update my wardrobe and complete my brand's look - I took Monday, a public holiday, to cycle around, enjoy the sun at the beach, and have a day without many plans.
The thing is, even after all those shopping trips, I found myself with just a pair of shorts and a top to spend a summer holiday in Rio, and that's exactly what I wore. I cycled around with my sunscreen and my hair blowing in the wind for several kilometers until my body started complaining about the ridiculously low amount of water I drink each day, so I stopped to have a refreshing drink at a café.
I dropped off my Itaú bike at a random station near the beach, ordered my iced latte, and went to the bathroom to wash my hands while waiting for my order. That's when I looked at myself in the mirror, and I saw the oily shine on my face, the blemishes on skin that had been protected with a non-tinted sunscreen, the bangs that had gone in the wrong direction with all the wind I faced, but most of all, I saw the little belly that squeezed between the tightness of my only pair of shorts and the top I was wearing.
And within all of this, what surprised me the most was that I found myself beautiful.
I realized that the reflection in the mirror, which would typically lead to restlessness for the rest of my day, along with regret for not having packed foundation and dry shampoo in my bag, and a feeling of inadequacy, was overshadowed by the dose of vitamin D that my body had been able to produce in the past few days, the sense of a well-deserved day off after a productive week, the happiness of feeling valued in an environment where I recognize myself as a professional, the satisfaction of being who I am today in this exact moment and place in my life, and the freedom of knowing that I am my best company even when I am alone for some time. Finally, in my thirties, I managed to recognize in myself the external beauty as a reflection of what is within.
Immediately, the first thought that came to mind when I realized I wasn't bothered by the messiness of that reflection was, "Why did it take me so long to get here?"
It was inevitable to feel sadness for the "things I didn't experience" out of fear of being seen.
(I've already talked a little bit about my self-esteem issues in this post)
If you're reading this and you're still in your twenties, you might roll your eyes at the next sentence, but there's such a comfortable space we create in our mid-thirties that I wouldn't trade for any late night parties from my mid-twenties.
***
In a few months, I'll be turning 35, and I decided to research what marks the sixth seven-year period of a woman's life. Here's what I read:
The archetype of this seven-year period is the knight who walks alongside their horse, demonstrating a greater balance between reason and emotion. The journey now allows us to look back on a part of the story we have already lived.
We contemplate the past, seeking to identify lessons for the present and the future. We connect with our internal baggage, and with that, a new question emerges:
What do I leave behind, and what do I carry with me on my journey from here onwards?
Thinking of life as a grand voyage, we are currently like wanderers. This period invites us to take a pause, to feel what we truly desire from now on.
This desire is deeply rooted within us. Yes, it is our essence pulsating, wanting to pursue what truly makes sense, transcending the "musts," the choices, and the roles that have been constructed, followed, and maintained throughout life, which may no longer fit us.
If we view the crisis as a point of transition and development, there is a strong desire for freedom and authenticity in relation to oneself and one's own choices.
A need to live in alignment with our internal beliefs grows. Existential questions intensify, as after going through phases focused more on the external and on having, our Being asks for more space within us to guide us towards our purpose.
I'm far from being the most self-assured person you've ever met. I still struggle with the mirror for the same reasons as in adolescence, even though I now know that it doesn't help at all and doesn't prove my worth. Many times, I genuinely suffer because I'm not externally who I truly wish to be, and because I lack the willpower to do what I think I need to become that person. And then I wipe away the tears and realize that all of this is the least important part of me, and I realize that my self-esteem is much more built upon all the other parts of myself that I've developed over the years and learned to love.
And it's a cycle. It comes and goes, and each time it comes, it loses strength, loses the weight of importance until it occupies such a smaller place that it leaves room for me to lovingly contemplate the reflection in the mirror, even when all I see is chaos. And the tendency is for that space to become much larger. And so, in another thirty-four and a half years, when the discomfort no longer exists, I will finally understand from experience the waste of time that this concern is.
May we continue to care less and less, and may the sadness for the things we haven't experienced out of fear of being seen transform into pride as we realize how far we've come.
I hope you enjoyed this edition of The Renegade Collective. If you want to continue the conversation or suggest any topics, feel free to reply to this email.
- Mafe
