||[Jan. 28th, 2005|01:34 pm]
|||||Fleetwood Mac - Landslide||]|
Confessions from the Threshold....
And she realizes it's time the walls came down. It's time to be true. Not so much to you, my friends, although I appreciate every one of you. It's time for me to face myself. This is my story.
How many people over the years have seen the strong willed, defend to the death, snarky, sarcastic, hard-core, tough girl? How many of you have seen me fall to pieces? In a single moment it all became crystal clear.
Strong is an act. It always has been. Tough is my bullshit. Did it set off your meter? I bet it did. That "not right" thing about me that I bet so many of you saw. That was it. Let me take you back about 28 years.
At 2, I didn't know what "sweet" was, really. But I know my father did and always has told me I was just so sweet. So much love to give. I *do* remember the love. I loved to a fault. My stuffed animals, my friends, my family, the trees in the yard, the pond my daddy built for me. I was 5 when my brother was born. I loved him, too. I don't ever remember that sibling rivalry or jealousy. But I remember the day I started playing "tough".
We had our first garage sale right around that time. There was this little waistcoat and a fuzzy hand muff that went with it. The coat had those little shag balls on the hood strings. It was pink and beautiful and I saw a lady walking toward my mom with it. My heart broke. Even at 5, I had it in my head that it was special and I wanted to give it to my daughter one day. I ran up to the lady and begged her not to buy it. She started to hand it to me when my mother snatched it and told me to grow up.
I'm sure there was more than just that moment that contributed to the "strong"...but that was the first memory I recall of it. As I grew, I heard more and more "grow up", "stop playing kids' games" (he still says that to me when I cry).
I'm not going to recount all the years. It's just details. But it finally came to me. I'm not strong. I don't *want* to be strong anymore. I don't want to be tough. Because I'm just *not*. It's so much work to be that. To put on that face.
I know there were times that some of you even saw me on the floor in such a fit you thought I might just keel right over and die. I now know what was just so horrible. It was that the minute I shed a tear. The minute I ached. The very moment I felt not so strong, I got mad at myself for *that* and multiplied whatever hurt I was feeling by some infinite amount. To see your own lie fall apart hurts.
As I approach 30, I have been getting increasing panic about so much wasted time. I couldn't put my finger on it.
Then I realized that I've been feeding myself my own bullshit for years. I made choices that would serve to prove my strength. I got involved with people that I knew would require me to, again, prove my strength. I told everyone "I can do anything".
It stops now.
There are things I don't think I can do.
There are things I don't want to do.
My heart gets broken easily.
I'm friendly, but very shy.
I have countless regrets.
I have much I want to learn, but am honestly not sure I want a "career".
I love my children more than I've shown them.
I don't particularly care for roller coasters.
I want to be loved, by myself as well as by someone else.
I've run myself into the ground for years trying to be strong. I'm giving it up. Here I am.
And, believe it or not, coming to this took more courage than anything else I've ever done.