Just like Meredith, I can’t pull off bright and shiny for long, but I’m very good at dark and twisty. (Incidentally, I don’t think she’s all that dark, but she is twisty.)I think I’m quite easy to like, but I also think I’m very difficult to love. The more layers I let you see, you see how many more layers there are, and hardly any of them are pretty. Pretty on the outside only makes up for so much – more than it should, frankly.
I always have been and always will be a glass half-empty kind of gal; I have plenty of precedent for this position. Cut flowers and pets always die. I fully and completely expect the worst. I’m a fatalist, a catastrophist, a worse-case scenario proponent. The child’s shoe lying by the side of the freeway can only mean one thing. I’m depressed and anxious. I’m jealous and suspicious. My fragile self-esteem can be vaporized with the smallest slight, real or imagined. I care too much about what others think of me.
And yet, I have wonderful friends, a husband who adores me and the respect of my colleagues. How the hell did this happen?
The painting above is by Regina Lafay, part of a collection of art at the Survivor of Abuse and Trauma Art Gallery; this one is called Anxiety.
"How the hell did this happen?" Well, there's only one obvious answer. You're much, much, much easier to love than you think. Trust us - we're right about you. - Kym
ReplyDeleteDonna, Your words resonate with me, and I think I understand a little of how you feel. I've had similar conversations with my own husband about myself. He often says to me what Kym has said to you. You have to trust that the people who love you aren't simply delusional or insane, all evidence to the contrary. Your darkness may be very well part of what they love in you. Your layers may bring depth and exploration to every relationship. The people who love you love you because of all your parts and layers. Trust them, because they know.
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