Chrysalis: a personal project.

Happy new year my darlings.

I took a few days off from work to welcome 2024. I was super excited to read, write, and eat lots of ice cream, but the transition from one year to the next had different plans for me. I spent the time sick as a dog, alone in my first apartment, and staring at my ceiling fan spin about. I couldn’t stay awake for more than a few hours and was bedridden for much of my four-day staycation from work.

It’s safe to say I had plenty of time to think about my new year’s resolutions.

So what came to mind?

At the start of 2023, I wanted to hit a couple of powerlifting milestones and move into my first apartment. Both were pretty big deals to me and I crossed the finish line for both, so what was left?

What about adulting tasks? Eh. I don’t know. I’m not psyched about scribbling down “get the Maxinemobile some new tires” and calling it a goal. I feel it belongs more on a to-do list. I wanted something more fulfilling, something that’s more of a want than a need.

Then, I saw something that managed to snap me out of my sniffly delirium and remember my intentions for 2024.

On New Year’s Day, I caught a view of myself in the mirror that wasn’t flattering in the least. I was a corpse. I had bags under my eyes from lack of quality sleep. My cheekbones were threatening to jump out from my face. I was a sickly shade of pale and missing eight pounds from my usual weight. Seriously, I was giving real dramatic frail-Victorian-child-wasting-away vibes. I remember thinking okay, I have to mask up for this over-the-counter medicine trip to Safeway because I can’t let anyone see me like this. Of course, I left my apartment complex and walked right into my neighbor. She’s super sweet and left me a care package at my door for me to enjoy while I write my will in my final days.

I wasn’t feeling very bonita.

The ordeal reminded me of a goal I’d thought of for all of December 2023, something I’d thought of making a project out of the coming year, but was nervous in wondering if I could pull it off.

I’ve been making an effort to practice more of “say yes,” so here we go.

Here’s my super-ultra-special, one and only goal for 2024:

I’m going to feel beautiful.

“I thought I’d uncover your secrets
but turns out there’s more,
you adored me before
oh, my good looking boy.”
-”Good Looking”, Suki Waterhouse

Crazy, right?

What happened in 2023 that prompted this INSANE goal? Well, a number of things.

First, thinking out loud on a road trip with my best friend helped me process how an old flame had treated my body and soul in such ugly ways.

Second, I’d gone through a bout of heartache so bad that I mentally blacked out for a week and woke up to great clarity of who I am.

Third, I spontaneously cried my eyes out during a scene from Howl’s Moving Castle. I was idly watching it, zoning out, and trying to maintain consciousness in my ghastly state of being.

Howl’s Moving Castle is a film by Studio Ghibli, a Japanese animation studio also responsible for the holy grail that is Spirited Away. It centers on Sophie, a young lady living an uneventful life as a hatter whose existence takes a wild turn when she befriends Howl, a wizard who lives in a moving castle, and is cursed by the jealous Witch of Waste who ages her rapidly from brown to grey locks overnight. In figuring out what to make of her time as a newly elderly lady, she lives in Howl’s moving castle as his housekeeper. Throughout the film, Sophie grows younger and older depending on how she feels about herself at the moment and what she does to stand up for herself.

In a comical scene, Howl frantically runs out of his bathroom and confronts Sophie after having accidentally dyed his hair from blonde to orange while shampooing, blaming her for having tidied up and leaving everything out of place.

Howl states “I give up, I see no point in living if I can’t be beautiful.”

His hair shifts from orange to black. Angry spirits begin taking over his castle, ominously shaking and rattling it.

As Sophie tries to convince Howl that he looks fine, he begins to melt into goo.

Then, the magic happens.

Sophie exclaims:

“Fine! So you think you’ve got it bad?! I’ve never once been beautiful in my entire life! I’ve had enough of this place!”

She runs out from the moving castle into an open, grassy field with heavy rain.

She begins to weep and visibly grows younger with each tear.

Old in a young body. Fed up with someone beautiful throwing a fit about being ugly. Sobbing in the rain.

I was Sophie. Sophie was me.

“Don’t kill me,
just help me run away,
from everyone,
I need a place to stay
where I can
cover up my face,
don’t cry,
I am just a freak!”
-”Freaks”, Surf Curse

I’ve always struggled with how I feel presenting myself to others.

I had severe eczema as a child. While everyone else showed up with smooth and healthy skin, I was in the corner cracked and bleeding.

I struggle with stuttering and slurred speech from years of abuse that still comes out when I’m nervous. It sounds like a little boy trying to explain why he’s crying. I’ll let you connect the dots.

I coped with trauma through binge eating. Before powerlifting, I struggled with my weight for much of my life and with finding flattering clothes for my figure.

I don’t have the best teeth. I suffered traumatic dental malpractice during my first-ever visit to the dentist. I couldn’t close my mouth for two days after. To this day, I still vividly remember the dentist giving me one of those temporary tattoo stickers that you wet and rub onto your arm to pretend to be grown up. It was a little green dinosaur, my reward for surviving what felt like bloody murder as a four-year-old. As she handed it to me, she said “Next time, no screaming, okay?”

“I have so much hurt inside me,
friend make sense of me,
friend make sense of me!”
-”A Hole In The Earth”, Daughter

And yet, I still feel so proud of myself for how far I’ve come.

And yet, I still feel so ugly.

And yet, I still love myself so much.

I remember saying to the old flame as I finally stood up for myself, “I’m going to have perfect skin and be held like I’m made of glass.”

I remember saying to my friend after the unrequited heartache, “I feel ugly and crazy,” as she wiped my tears with her palms.

I remember all the pain and glory that led up to my decision on New Year’s Day.

Now here’s the key: I’m going to feel beautiful. How I’m going to actually look will simply be a consequence of loving and nourishing myself.

“I could change up my body
and change up my face,
I could try every lipstick in every shade,
but I’d always feel the same
’cause pretty isn’t pretty enough anyways.”
-”pretty isn’t pretty”, Olivia Rodrigo

But where do I start? I’m not so sure.

It feels like going for a long drive in my own state to somewhere new; the land is kind of familiar, but I still don’t know what to expect.

There are a couple of tangible things that come to mind:

I’m making the shift from powerlifting to bodybuilding. No more bleeding from the eyes to squeeze in five more pounds on a deadlift. The focus is slow, meditative contractions of muscles so that all my joints and tendons get the proper rehab they need. Plus, we’re snatching Maxine’s waist in time for summer.

I’m deep diving into skincare more than I already have. I feel like if a guy gets a proper night cream, serum, and body wash that’s not some horrid 12-in-1 formula, he’s doing okay. Although I have those, I’m not satisfied. I want the secrets of the universe that the silky smooth pretty girls have.

I’m doubling down on my love language that is acts of service. I feel that helping a person in need is an act of beauty, and I’m going to continue, but I’m going to turn some of that impulse to help people inwards. I’m going to see what can be done to make my own life easier and give myself more room to breathe for my own hobbies and interests. A good friend pointed out that I give so much of myself to others and become hurt when it’s not reciprocated, so I need to sit in the receiving role more often.

I’m staying far away from toxicity. I have an AWFUL habit of letting toxic people into my life by convincing myself that I don’t deserve better company, and by the time I recognize that I need to leave, I’m already emotionally attached. I wish those people the best, but they make me feel ugly, so I keep my distance.

I’m going to meet more people platonically and romantically. I believe part of embracing yourself is letting more people enjoy your existence. I’m still heavily introverted and probably won’t hang out with said people super often, but nevertheless, I want to get out there more often and grant myself permission to be delightful company even if it goes nowhere.

I’m letting myself cry more. I cried the most among everyone when I was little and now I’ve reached an age where I feel safe letting Maxine cry whenever she needs to. Whether I’m watching Howl’s Moving Castle, thinking about how proud I am of my best friend, or just petting a cat, I’m letting the waterworks do as they do. It’s a cathartic act of connecting to myself that helps flush out ugly feelings even if I’m quite the ugly crier in the process. Tears aren’t just tears to me. They’re pent up bundles of frustration and self-loathing that have to exit through the soul.

I’m highlighting more of what I like about myself. I pride myself so much on taking up as little space as possible and I’ve come to realize that hyper-independence can be just as bad as higher-dependence. Being low-maintenance is not the holy grail of my being. No more of that. I’m strong as a bull. I’m a gold medalist in instigating. I’m overly helpful. I’m the ultimate hater. I’m great at spilling the tea. I can catch you with a zinger and make you snort your coffee. I love as much as I can. I’m a touchstone for many to feel safe and secure around. I get the call when you’re in trouble. I’m spoiled rotten everywhere I go. On top of all that, I make a mean mac n’ cheese. There’s so much more to me than not wanting help.

I’m falling in love with myself. My last bout of being head over heels for someone removed several masks. I’m spending less time chasing others and more time recognizing what I truly need to feel beautiful is within myself, it just needs to be let out. In other words, I’m taking Maxine on more dates.

Lastly, I’m planning to look different by January 1st, 2025. Before and after pictures, a body transformation video, the whole shebang. I’ve done it several times, this time I’m doing it not to flaunt outer beauty but inner beauty that is reflected outward.

Less “I hate this version of me.”

More “I love this version of me enough to let it finally rest.”

Same process, different purpose, but aside from bigger muscles, I also want a bigger smile.

Deep breaths.

Shaky hands.

Tearful eyes.

There’s the plan.

I’m entering an odd space.

I care so much about how I look.

I also couldn’t care less.

I’m changing.

I’m not so sure how, but I am.

Let’s enter the cocoon.

Let’s emerge a year from now.

Let’s have some fun.

Chrysalis.

“For all the air that’s in your lungs,
for all the joy that is to come,
for all the things that you’re alive to feel,
just let the pain remind you hearts can heal,
oh, how were you to know?”
-”Hate to See Your Heart Break”, Paramore