Showing Up for Myself at 54 (Even If No One Claps)

The scariest part about aging is showing up for yourself — Unapologetically

                          Earlier this week, I wrote a note to myself on a sticky note :

                “This is your soft era. Live like your dreams aren’t up for debate.”

It looked cute sitting there on the page, but what I didn’t write,  what I couldn't capture in fifteen little words , was the truth behind it.

I wrote it after I caught myself shrinking again. Not loudly, not dramatically. Just… quietly. #realtruth

The kind of shrinking that feels like: “Maybe I’ll post it next week.” The kind that whispers in your head, “Let me get it perfect first.” All Women know that voice. 

That’s how we bury our dreams, under patience, timing, and “almost ready.” Perhaps I’ll do it later. And honestly we never get back to it. 

I’ve done it most of my life, especially with my creativity, my voice, and this wild dream I’ve carried since I was a little girl cutting old jeans and turning them into ugly denim bags, I thought it was beautiful. #uglydenimbags

 I’ve made my vision bite-sized so it wouldn't make anyone uncomfortable. I’ve delayed launches, doubted my ideas, talked myself out of things I already knew I wanted to do  because I wasn’t sure anyone would care. #realtalk

And the internet? Oh, it’ll humble you. You can pour your soul into something, hit publish, and watch it disappear with one swipe. Who else knows that feeling when it comes to giving your all to something that barely gets seen? Don’t get me wrong I have found much success on the internet but I have been quietly shrinking myself down. And at this point in my life I am the problem.

But here’s what finally hit me:
I cannot spend my life inspiring everyone else while starving myself. And neither can you. It’s time to buckle down , strap up and go for your dreams. Look around no matter your age , you’re getting old. 

Now, I’m 54. I don’t want applause anymore. I want freedom. And that’s what aging notes is about finding freedom , to live, love, become, do , conquer and create.

Not the loud kind with balloons and confetti popping in a room full of people. I want the kind of freedom that lets me show up without explanation. The kind that lets me press publish without wondering if it’s “enough.” The kind that lets me wear whatever the FUNK I want and still walk like I belong. I’m a wife, a mother, a creator and  yes. But I am still becoming, too.

I want to live beyond the dreams now. I want my daughters to see me become all the things I set aside while they were finding their wings. I don’t regret what I poured into others… but I’m allowed to return to me. To build, to write. to risk it all. I want to create without needing permission and to start again without apology. :)

So I’m showing up now, with no claps and no validation needed.
But because this is my life  and I deserve to witness myself flow and grow.

And if you’re reading this, holding your own dream under “maybe later”… hear me and read me clearly.

You don’t need perfect timing, just set the mark and go. 

Because even if no one claps, you are still allowed to become the woman you were born to be until the end.

Xo Tangie

Still unfolding, still choosing me, myself and I. (And that’s not being selfish!)

If you like the dress I am wearing, you can find it here