Ink Worthy Books

I went out last night. By myself.

I went to see a local cover band perform. They were good. I had an amazing time watching them play music I love.

As I was singing and dancing, a guy started chatting me up. An uber fan. He told me about all the times he’d seen this band and the original band play.

He eventually got around to what I expected I might hear:

“Hey Danielle, are you single?”

“Technically, yes.”

“Well, I think you’re gorgeous and I’d love to take you on a date.”

I told him I’d think about it. Because the thing is, if I dated every man who came up to me and told me I’m beautiful, I’d never be single a day in my life.

I’m just not impressed with “I think you’re gorgeous” followed immediately with “let’s go out.”

And quite frankly, he wasn’t all that attractive, but if he would have even said, “I’d love to buy you a drink and chat a bit after this,” I might have said yes.

Why?

Because my beauty is the least interesting thing about me, and I think your beauty is the least interesting thing about you too. I can’t begin to describe how sexy it is when a man can teach me something. Or hold a conversation that carries depth.

But so many of us start and end with looks.

I know, this might come across as a “pretty girl problem.” But as I age and my looks change, I’m finding myself feeling stronger about this.

It’s really not how I want to experience dating. I want to know that there’s literally ANYTHING else that you find worth exploring about me, AND for you to show me there’s something more about you than your ability to use your eyes.

I want to know that there’s depth, substance, something hefty beneath your good looks. And I want to show you the same about me.

In the words of one of my favorite humans: “I want a soul mate who can sit me down, shut me up, tell me ten things I don’t already know, and make me laugh. I don’t care what you look like, just turn me on. And if you can do that, I will follow you on bloody stumps through the snow. I will nibble your mukluks with my own teeth. I will do your windows. I will care about your feelings. Just have something in there.” ~ Henry Rollins

Just have something in there.

About 11 years ago, a text message saved my life.

I was nearing 30 and had spent most of the previous decade pregnant or breastfeeding and caring for small children.

I worked full time, earned two advanced degrees, and then came home each night to care for my children. To say I was even on the bottom of my own list would be generous. I wasn’t.

On my maternity leave with Aven, I didn’t know but I was struggling with postpartum depression. I spent most of my days in bed with her, binging Netflix and eating cookies with Nutella. I had to force myself to do basic housework by sneaking a shot of whiskey I hid under the bathroom sink.

One day, I knew it had gotten bad when that one shot wasn’t working like it should have. I called my husband to come home. I heard him come in the garage below my bedroom a short while later, but instead of coming to check on me, he mopped the floor.

He said he wanted to give me space. But I didn’t want space. I wanted love.

While sharing my heartache with my friend Dan later that night, he sent me a quote that has literally shifted the trajectory of my life:

“The greatest gift you can give somebody is your own personal development. I used to say, ‘If you will take care of me, I will take care of you.’ Now I say, ‘I will take care of me for you, if you will take care of you for me.’”

These words of Jim Rohn were what shook me wide awake. I realized I had been waiting around for others to love me but what I needed to do was to love MYSELF.

And from that moment on, that’s been my mission.

I started eating better, exercising, writing, reading more. I started showing myself love and care.

And over the past 11 years, my self-love had only deepened, although it’s taken different shapes.

This last year, after losing my friend, my world fell apart in many ways. I completely let go of nutrition, barely made it to the gym, didn’t read any nonfiction, and quit my daily journaling.

Last month, I decided it was time. With a new coach by my side, today was my first time back in the gym in months. I was humbled—big time—but it felt amazing to be showing up for myself like this again.