Lipstick Is All That’s Left

More than two years into my spiritual vagabond era, I feel like all the labels once stuck to me have peeled off and blown away. Stripped bare of identifications over here. Even a simple question like “So… what do you do?” turns me into a deer in existential headlights.

Right now the most honest answer is: I am here. I am noticing. I am showing up for life and whoever is standing in front of me, including the wild creature living inside of me, with curiosity and presence.

Everything that defined me for decades has either flown out the window, lost its meaning, or shapeshifted into something totally unrecognizable. What once felt crucial now feels kind of hilarious… maybe a little absurd… potentially self-centered… and definitely not so important.

I really am grateful for all of it though. I have lived a buffet of life’s flavors. Aches, heartbreaks, messes, joys, insane ecstatic peaks, the wild ride of motherhood to three beautiful children (yes, three different fathers… keep it spicy), a sweet grandson, thrilling relationships, adventures across the globe, so much love, and a body that has stayed strong. Fifty-three years of organic eating: highly recommend. Turns out kale mattered!

I know the past built the foundation I’m dancing on right now.

Today I am not identifying with the leader, mentor, caretaker, or teacher that once strutted the stage inside me. Today I am staring into the mirror like, “Who exactly appointed me the knower of what’s good for others?”

Helping always felt automatic. I had answers ready like a spiritual Swiss Army knife. Turns out that was my safety mechanism: if everyone else was fine, then I could finally relax. So much for my freedom fantasy.

Plot twist: codependence wears a very convincing superhero cape.

Did it help others? Most likely.

Did it help me? Absolutely.

I felt seen, needed, purposeful… occasionally fabulous and enough.

It all served something. Did I feel free? I thought so. Today I suspect it was more like “Freedom™: the deluxe illusion package.”

Today I can sit back. Listen without swooping in to rescue. Watch myself not talk. Allow someone else to feel their own feelings without me cracking open a tool kit. Maybe presence is the best gift I have?

This is definitely a practice. The urge to jump in is strong. Old habits are like zombies: persistent and weirdly energized.

Staying quiet requires vigilance… and sometimes deep breathing.

Yet wow. The freedom. The spaciousness. The delicious relief of letting people be humans without me running quality control.

It is worth zipping my mouth. Leaning back. Letting every identity drift by like parade floats.

Except the lipstick.

The lipstick stays.

A woman needs at least one glamorous lifeline. 💄😄