Today was okay. The best part was sitting with Natalie this morning and working on the show. I’m starting to love it. Every season, my goal is to entertain – from cute to nostalgic to upbeat and even moving – and that is exactly what’s going down on paper right now.

One thing about this recital planning I have noticed is that Natalie does not care about circumstances surrounding it. I look like an absolute tragedy on a paper plate, and she just comes right in, all blonde and sing-songy, with Starbucks drinks for each of us in hand.

She doesn’t care that I cough, and my voice sounds scratchy. She pays no mind to my being chair bound, all covered up, with messy unwashed hair.

She doesn’t care that you can write your name in the dust on my piano or that I still have two Christmas trees up. I’m sure she gets dog hair on her. My cat wants to sleep on her. Doesn’t care.

Clearly, Natalie is gold. What she’s teaching me, though, is that I don’t have to look any kind of way, play any kind of role, or live up to any rock-star expectations. I feel like I have to do that for a lot people, but I don’t have to for her.

I don’t have to for my friends Carissa, Kirstin, or Shelby either.

I don’t have to for Jamie or Cassie.

Come to think of it, I probably don’t have to do that for many people.

I have purple hair, and I wear make-up. I rarely make public appearances without lipstick. My clothes generally coordinate with my tennis shoes. I wear hoop earrings, and I leave the house smellin’ good.

I think pretty fast on my feet. I take pride in being industrious and ingenious. I read a lot, I have experience in a lot of different industries and jobs, and I know things. I can cook.

I’m funny when I want to be. (My favorite is making Keith laugh.) I like puns. I like haiku. Maybe I’ll be a writer one day. I’m good at planning events and parties. I show up ready to be fabulous, and I can motivate a room.

Does any of it matter right now, though?

I’m pretty bare-bones these days. My hair is greasy, and my purple is fading. I haven’t put on make-up, and I can’t remember the last time I wore earrings. I can’t walk too well, I don’t think too fast, and I’m not particularly coordinated. Funny? Nope, I’m a Debbie Downer lately. No parties planned. Not too fabulous when I limp into a room…on a damn walker!

Perhaps I’m learning to not have quite so many expectations for myself – and that not everyone has those expectations of me – in all situations, that it’s okay to show up a little wrinkled and greasy. It’s okay to be plain and a little wonky. It’s okay to have low moments.

None of all that shiny, witty, fabulous stuff is a prerequisite for showing up. None of it is necessary to have people appreciate you. None of it is a requirement for being valued or loved.

SIDE BAR: Several weeks ago, before all this fit hit the shan, I heard about a colleague, if you will, here in town who had a few not-so-nice things to say about “that Amanda girl” and “that studio in town”. Imagine not liking me, and I’m at Dollar Tree hittin’ a jig with Brady on a random Tuesday to the entirety of “Get Down On it” the second we heard Kool & the Gang’s first three notes. (That really happened, by the way. It was a scene.) Kick rocks, Sister.

See…some people won’t like you no matter what you bring to the table.

(And, I mean, clearly she’s wrong.)

Anywho…

Y’all, learn this with me. Learn from this crappy brain tumor situation that you can let yourself go, resign yourself to the hard times you’re going through, and just ride the rotten wave. What do they say? Those who matter don’t mind, and those who mind don’t matter.

Thank you, Natalie and friends, for valuing me despite my being pretty banged up and awfully shabby. Most of all, though, thank you for teaching me that love is not conditional on whether or not I can perform, earn, please, or be.

Natalie, you thought we were just giggling and listening to frog songs. It was much more than that.

20 days and counting!

#pray4msa #powerinthepurple #graceanddignity

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