...one of the last of the innocents and she keeps fooling herself...
I’m learning. At a glacial pace. Or even a plate tectonics pace.
It’s beginning to dawn on me that my body and heart and soul are all speaking to me at times, and that I should listen. They may actually know what they’re saying.
When I recall all the nights I would cry myself to sleep, curled up in fetal position, in complete and utter anguish, I should have listened. Instead, I assumed I was somehow at fault, that I really was that insecure, or that my hormones were to blame. I have pages and pages of blog posts and journal entries to that effect. Pages and pages which constitute hours upon hours of rationalization. It’s not you it’s me. Guess what? It was you. It was me too. I should have given myself credit and honored my body, heart and soul, instead of allowing myself to be duped by my head. What my head couldn’t see, everything else about me could.
I wasn’t then and am not now an overindulgent mother who lets her kids walk all over her. Yes, I have a particular parenting style that is gentle, but also strict. I believe that discipline can be accomplished without a heavy hand.
I wasn’t then and am not now insecure and needy. I’ve always been open and loving. Not grasping, in order to receive or validate my existence, but simply giving. I give my all, with innocence, pure, simple, open and complete. If it’s met with scorn, ambivalence, or rejection, of course I wince. How can I not, when all I’m doing is pouring out love?
Yes, I am definitely ultra sensitive. Absolutely and most definitely. Positively and completely.
I should do a better job of giving myself the benefit of the doubt. At least I recognize that now. I hope I can pay better attention from here on out. I probably won’t, but I can at least make an attempt to try now and then. Or at least recognize it more quickly in retrospect.
Eventually…
babelbabe Says:
