Tag Archives: acceptance

May 12

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I’m wearing the painted face
that you gave me,
the one with the sanguine smile
and the happy eyes that reassure you
you’re an inanity,
no pressure      no attachments
nothing real that will force
feelings.
It’s a tight fit, uncomfortable over
my chagrin, and it lies
heavy upon my somber countenance.
I wear it
as a painful reminder of my credulity
my punishment for playing
the fool.

There have been way too many times in my life that I have not been my true self, for fear of not being accepted or loved or understood. (Hence the poem above, which I had titled Effects of Folly.) I think it has to do with moving a lot, as I mentioned in a previous post. Moving required meeting new people, which required trying to make new friends and fit in. But I’m really not that good at pretending; it doesn’t last. The true self needs to emerge if we want to live authentic lives. I’m sure I’m not alone in that realization. Thankfully, I’ve become quicker at recognizing the difference between wanting to get along, which we all have to do at times, and wanting to be a person I think someone else wants me to be. Not the person I need to be. And in being more true to myself, I’ve found people who really care about me. And genuinely like me. Maybe it sounds rather childish and simple, but honestly, isn’t that what we all want, no matter how old we get? To be accepted and loved for who we are. I’m thankful today that I feel that I am. And thankful for the people in my life who know and genuinely like the crazy me.

March 5

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I had a couple of spontaneous get-togethers today that were lovely and uplifting. One was coffee with a coworker after a budget meeting. We chatted for a while about a whole range of topics, both work-related and personal. I admire this person greatly; she is both intelligent and wise and extremely gracious. She is the type of person who can express herself in ways that are both eloquent and emotional, so I’m always trying to take notes. I’m the type of person who, when I get emotional, my words fail me. It’s not that I’m prone to angry outbursts. I rarely get worked up enough to yell, but if I’m passionate enough about something, I find it difficult to speak at all. That’s saying a lot since I was on the speech team in college. I know how to speak in public and have no fears doing so, but only if I’ve been able to carefully craft my language ahead of time. I could not compete in debate. I’d fail miserably. I can barely even hold a meaningful conversation and walk at the same time. But this woman, she’s the real deal. I’ve watched her discuss frustrating issues with people at work and not cross that line of being disrespectful or embarrassing, no matter how irritated I knew she was. She’s also the type of person who can ask probing questions without sounding nosey, because she seems to genuinely care about the answer. My daughter and I were discussing friendships tonight and she asked if I had ever had a “squish” which apparently is a platonic crush on someone. On anyone, guy or girl? If so, it’s my coworker. The other get-together was this evening with a friend from an old neighborhood. We don’t get to see each other as much anymore, so once I knew my evening was open, I asked her if she could stop over. We have been trying to get together for while. We drank some wine and caught up. She too is a classy lady. Beautiful both inside and out. Her way is more subdued, but just as genuine. I know when she asks about my life and what’s new with me, she honestly wants to know. There’s no pretense and there’s no judgment. Sitting and chatting is easy and appreciated. I am grateful today for both of these moments with friends. I hope I was able to give them the same sense of friendship that they gave to me.