Oh, she may be weary. Young girls they do get weary wearing that same old shaggy dress. But when she gets weary, try a little tenderness. You know shes waiting, just anticipating, a thing that shell never, never, never, never possess. But while shes there waiting, try a little tenderness.--Otis Redding I remember being a young girl just wanting someone to notice me. Someone to say, Do you know how awesome you are? Someone to say, Do you know how beautiful you are? You dont need that crazy eye makeup. You dont need to show your body off like that. You dont need to give your body away. You will never get love like that anyway. Not the love that you need. And maybe a few someones did try. But I was so self-absorbed and the person who said it was never the one I wanted it to be. I assure that I wasnt an easy win. I kept my bristles and my tongue sharpened. Ever on the defensive on the outside. Ever the child who wanted just to be loved on the inside. As I watch my son struggle with his own self-esteem, it angers me. Why does he not know how awesome he is? We tell him. We show him. We equip him. His father is an active and involved part of his life. Even now, they are sitting at the bar planning their monthly activities together (building knives, improving their guns, fixing the dirt bike). Why does he seek affirmation from a culture gone crazy? Why does he insist on wearing that stupid hoodie? Its 90 degrees outside. And then a memory came back to me. A memory of me just wanting one gift for Christmas the year I turned 14. All I wanted was a leather jacket. You know, the cool leather jackets. The jackets the rebels wore. I was rebellious, after all. But I felt that I had a reason to be. My parents had divorced. Every one was caught up in doing their own growing up, leaving me to my Metallica and Stone Temple Pilots. Kurt Cobain and Eddie Vedder were my mentors. And I was a great disciple. They were MiracleGro to my rebellious teen spirit. I can hardly stand to listen to them now, because it just brings back memories that I would love to forget. I wore that leather jacket like a uniform. But even before the divorce, in my prepubescent state, I was off course, off-kilter. My self-esteem was always low, although I knew how awesome I was. It just didnt seem that anybody else did. I recently spoke to a girl who I went to school with my whole life but whose circle I didnt really move in. But since it was a tiny school, everyone was friends. I made a comment that referenced my stupidity in high school and how people must think terrible things about me, and she had no idea what I was talking about. That really made me stop and think. She was going through her own struggles that I knew nothing about, too. Only 20 years later are we able to connect and say, I never knew that you were hurting, too. Im not sure if this writing even has a point. I just put my headphones on and started typing, because to this day, music causes me to emote. It stirs things deep within me. And sometimes I can use those negative emotions to write something beautiful that will reach out to someone and make a difference to them. If nothing else. it makes a difference to me. And I guess thats where I can end up with this maybe. I have to be happy with myself. I have to be happy for myself. I have to be enough and not clamber to seek refuge in the shelter of anyone elses shadow. I am awesome. I am enough.
Posted on: Sun, 28 Sep 2014 20:22:11 +0000
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