“Glitter in the Air”
(3-4 minute read)
She was born Alecia Beth Moore on September 8, 1979, in Doylestown, Pennsylvania. We all know her better as Pink. She was inspired to choose her stage name from Mr. Pink based on the character in 1992 movie Reservoir Dogs directed by Quentin Tarantino.
I have more of her CDs in my collection than any other artist!
I’ve followed her career as she evolved from a punk-to-pop rock star. I’ve always been drawn to the dichotomy of her lyrics. From edgy and angry to vulnerable and loving, she covers quite the spectrum. Although I wasn’t a rebellious teenager, I could resonate with her struggle to express her thoughts and feelings.
I’ve always felt that I could never find my voice. I wrote my first poem In the Midst of All This Strife when I was 15. It was my attempt to get all the thoughts out of my head. I’ve always been labeled ‘too much’ or ‘too sensitive,’ so it was safer to write my thoughts down than to share them with anyone.
The title of her second album, Missundaztood speaks for itself. Who am I and how do I fit into this world? Track two: Don’t Let Me Get Me – Don’t wanna be my friend no more – I want to be somebody else. Track three: Just Like a Pill. I could go on and on…
And then I heard Glitter In The Air. That song stopped me dead in my tracks. All of her songs before that might be considered gimmicky or fun. But Glitter was an on entirely different level. Almost every line was a question for personal introspection. Have you ever felt this way?
On January 31, 2010, Pink performed Glitter In The Air at the Grammy Awards. She poetically sang, “Have you ever thrown a fistful of glitter in the air?” If you have never seen the video of this performance, I highly recommend it. It is an amazing display of beauty, strength, endurance, and vulnerability.
I am the perfect empath storm – business drive, deep spirituality and hilariousness. Ninety nine percent of the time, humor prevails. That’s what I want the world to see. I’ve been told it’s my coping mechanism. I agree, but only because it feels so much better than the heaviness of the alternatives.
Four years ago, I was at a very low point. My son, John, found the love of his life and was moving forward to his future. He moved out. I was crushed. It felt like someone punched me in the stomach, and I lost my best friend. Empty nest syndrome after being a single mother for so long felt like ‘The Walls of Jericho’ were tumbling down upon my already fragile existence.
At the same time, a wonderful man from my past was reaching out to me, asking to see me after a 10-year hiatus. Now, I self-confess, I was literally The Hottest Mess on the Planet. I was damaged, broken, and the highest weight of my life! I was a complete shitshow.
When I told him I couldn’t see him because of my ‘current condition,’ do you know what he said? “I don’t care how much you weigh. I just want to talk to you.”
Early in my life, someone damaged me with words about my body image. If you weren’t a size 0 and a pretty cheerleader, no one would ever want you. I presumed this older person was wiser than me, therefore, I assumed he was right.
I’ve binged, purged, and starved myself seeking this body perfection. Have you ever felt this way?
I got real and asked myself, why don’t you want to see this trusted friend after so many years? Then I heard the lyric from Glitter “Did you ever look fear in the face, and say, I just don’t care?”
It’s been four years since I asked that question. I answered, yes. It was one of the hardest decisions of my self-doubting life, but I did it. And it paid off.
I’m reminded of the book, Daring Greatly – How the Courage to be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent and Lead by Brene Brown.
She quotes Theodore Roosevelt’s powerful speech, “Man in the Arena” from 1910.
“It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.”
Have I found my voice? Am I Daring Greatly? The jury is still out on that. It is excruciatingly painful to be vulnerable. But I’m doing it anyway. Why? Because it just may make a difference to one person who is listening.
I am a hopeless optimist. I choose to see the good in others. And I would love nothing more than for you to throw your fistful of Glitter In The Air! You have nothing to lose…