A Love Letter To Myself
Megan Mensink
A treasure curator. A mom. A wife. And a thousand other things.
In my last blog post, I spoke about people's visceral reactions to pieces that they connect with. In this post, I am going to share mine. Here it goes. I recently came across an antique gold signet ring with the inscription, MB. Megan Bewick. Bewick is my maiden name; those were my initials for the first 29 years of my life. I have made a conscious effort to source pieces for this community, not, I repeat, not for myself. However, it would take a certain amount of willpower (an amount that I don’t possess) to pass on this serendipitous opportunity.
When I picked her up, I wasn’t overwhelmed with emotions. I didn’t feel as if I had been reunited with a piece of myself that I was missing. To be honest, I felt buyer's remorse and regretted that I selfishly bought something for myself rather than for the Folklor community. Did I really need to treat myself to an extravagant purchase just because it had my initials on it?
I tried her on my fingers to see which one worked best. I begrudgingly slid her on my index finger. I stole glances at her while I was driving. She wasn’t perfect, not by any means; she was scratched, scuffed and a little misshapen. As I was focusing on her imperfections and flaws, I started to reflect on this past year and my earlier years - when I was still Megan Bewick. I started to think about the significant life changes that have happened since I was a Bewick; a couple of houses, a couple of kids, a couple of wrinkles, a couple of stomach rolls, a couple of inches lost on my cleavage... the usual stuff you would expect as you transition from your 20s into your mid 30s. However, it was the subtle changes and nuances that seemed far more significant to me during this reflection. This past year has been a formative year for me; I have put myself out there in a way I have never done before. I am slowly exposing the parts of me that I feel the most vulnerable about- my ideas, my perspectives, and my vision. Previously, these were things I held closely. These were things I did not share, but something about this past year gave me the confidence that I needed or the push I was looking for to take a chance. A shift happened. I no longer put value on perfection; I put value on my energy, my vulnerability, and my strength.
In a world that is so heavily filtered and edited, people have gravitated towards and praised me for my ‘realness’. I feel like a fraud for revelling in these kind words, because it wasn’t that long ago that, I too, was presenting a curated feed of meticulously edited images, both literally and figuratively speaking. You know the version with a thigh gap, porcelain skin, and mo money no problems (that’s how it goes, right?). I feel saddened to think how much energy was wasted trying to edit away imperfections and vulnerability- the good stuff.
I glance back at the ring. I take her in. I take her all in. And instead of seeing her imperfections as flaws, I see experiences and depth. Her gold frame nestled perfectly into the nook of my furry finger, I feel overwhelmed by a sense of accomplishment for who I have become this year. Not what I have done. Not what I have, but WHO. I. AM. My 20 year old self would be horrified by 34 year old Megan Mensink. The unflattering pictures, exposing my flaws, and sharing my emotions. To be honest, I am also a little horrified by myself. But it’s real, and real can be horrifying.
This ring represents growth, evolution, and acceptance. Every time I look at it, I am reminded of my journey, my growth, and my strength. It takes strength to show vulnerability, more than to show perfection. And this is not to say I feel comfortable with myself all the time and enjoy seeing myself look terrible. The truth is, I often wish my kids would accidentally hit me in the teeth with a mini stick so I can get a set of veneers. But this is who I am, this is what I've got to work with, and a new set of pearly whites isn’t going to change that.
I glance back at my ring and decide the index finger isn’t her rightful home. I kindly placed her on the ring finger of my right hand, because she represents the most important relationship in my life - the one I have with myself. A relationship that is challenging, tumultuous, and occasionally verbally abusive, but one that is not going away. This ring, represents a vow to myself. My commitment to be kinder, to be more accepting, and to love myself unconditionally. It is a process and I am learning to be comfortable with the fluidity, the constant pendulum of feelings towards myself and my body. Accepting that how I feel today, is not necessarily how I will feel tomorrow and I am ok with that.
xoxo Megan