I always thought I needed the light of others to make better of myself, as though they were the ones all powerful, mighty, but never so high. I always thought I needed somebody else to hold my beliefs because putting yourself out there was acceptance, that was truth.
I didn’t think “God” was going to save me, but it’s the same idea.
I focused on the flaws people embellished for me. The relationship I had just ended, crashed head first into my own self-(re)evaluation. We as a couple, in a sense, made one person. My ideas were disembodied into his. I didn’t know what my choices were, but our choices. Without it, I was just a girl – faceless and alone.
We weren’t in love, but I hit the bottom of a bottle and can of Dr. Pepper. I was so bound by what I wasn’t; I couldn’t see what others thought I was. I stopped letting people in, and I blamed it on insecurity, the cliché of never being good enough. I completely ignored the people who were trying to tell me differently, and it took me crashing into someone else’s emotional disturbance to realize what was happening.
Ian told me how I was jaded by it all, that I was so focused on what was wrong with me, I couldn’t see he was the one person trying to tell me I could do better for myself – that he was better for the person I was. He was someone who would look out for me, build me up, instead of tearing me down. “The spider’s web that connects everyone’s heart is love,” is what he told me, that “if you give yourself to someone and they don’t want it, you’re still you and they’re poorer for it.”
Up until that moment, I thought my insecurities were hidden, but Ian told me how we’re all perfect being who we are. I learned comfort. I learned that I can’t be everything to everyone, and I’ve come to terms with that.
After beating yourself blind, eye surgery sounds better.
Eventually, I repeated everything he ever told me to myself, again and again. I pulled myself out of the limelight that was created by my own disillusionment and self-conclusion. It wasn’t until I blinked my eyes open that I realized how I was, who I was, and that I wasn’t changing.
I’m the best at being me because I’m the only me. I’m the person who gets up to face my fears, who sleeps on my dreams, and who watches myself get slapped down again and again, feeling the sting that’s left behind. I may not be the girl who says the right things, who has the biggest boobs, or the roundest ass, but that’s life. I am what I am, and if someone’s doesn’t like it, screw them.
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