Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it. ~Emily Dickinson
Sometimes, simply being able to speak honestly of oneself, or one’s life, baldly, without fear of judgment (or perhaps in spite of potential judgment), is a marvelous, magical thing. Empowering. “This is me, world, take me or leave me.” The day I walked away from my marriage because I couldn’t live authentically within it was the day I first embraced the power–and pain–of honesty; of authenticity and truth. I started my blogs hoping to share my journey, with all its joys and sorrows, with others, to experience and talk openly and truthfully about that journey. And yes, for the most part, Emily Dickinson had it right. Being able to speak my truths has been a delight.
Sometimes, though, when honesty is about things that make me uncomfortable, it becomes a little less “delightful.”
The subject of the first of the Truth Meme questions is one of those difficult-to-share things.
“Something you hate about yourself.”
I wish, like The Blogging Slave, from whom I snagged this meme, that could say I don’t hate anything. But I do. In fact, I hate lots of things about myself.
I almost started listing them. One by one, trotting out all the myriad things that I despise and wish were different about me. But I don’t think this is meant to be a soliloquy of self-hatred. And honestly, though those things make a long list, there is an equally long list of things that I love about myself, and, on the whole, I think I come out in the “positive” column, all things considered.
But…honesty here. Truth. “Something I hate about myself.”
Bah. This is a harder truth than I thought.
Honestly, the thing that I hate most, that impacts my life negatively most often? Is that I need constant validation of my worth. I can’t seem to un-need it, and no matter how many times I am assured of it, the smallest thing can–an ignored IM, a phone call not made, an email not replied to, being left off a list, not being praised for something I’ve done, having a post or tweet ignored–can send me into a spiral of insecurity, of certainty that I’m not good enough, not interesting enough, not enough.
I’m working on it. All the time. Working on creating validation from within, not without. And, oftentimes, I succeed. I am succeeding. I am making myself into someone that is worthwhile to myself.
Oh these little rejections how they add up quickly
One small sideways look and I feel so ungood
Somewhere along the way I think I gave you the power to make
Me feel the way I thought only my father could
Oh these little rejections how they seem so real to me
One forgotten birthday I’m all but cooked
How these little abandonments seem to sting so easily
I’m 13 again am I 13 for good?
I can feel so unsexy for someone so beautiful
So unloved for someone so fine
I can feel so boring for someone so interesting
So ignorant for someone of sound mind
Oh these little protections how they fail to serve me
One forgotten phone call and I’m deflated
Oh these little defenses how they fail to comfort me
Your hand pulling away and I’m devastated
When will you stop leaving baby?
When will I stop deserting baby?
When will I start staying with myself?
Oh these little projections how they keep springing from me
I jump my ship as I take it personally
Oh these little rejections how they disappear quickly
The moment I decide not to abandon me