a letter to myself:
So what, you called in sick to work, you shed a few fake tears, you skipped lunch with a friend to dust your coffee table and clean your sheets. So what. You aren’t the only person in the world who has taken a shower with plans to go out but end up changing your mind when you look in the mirror and think, “I’m tired. I want to sit here and write tonight.” Listen here, you aren’t the only person who enjoys a night sitting under christmas lights writing instead of going out.
You feel like the people who dial the wrong number and call you might actually have something to say. Like the time some lady in Ohio accidentally left a voicemail on your phone saying, “Happy Birthday, Trish. I hope God blesses you today.” Remember when you called that lady back and said, “I’m not Trish but you have no idea how much I needed to hear that.” You aren’t the calls that you ignore, you aren’t the calls that never came, the calls you stare at your phone waiting for. You aren’t somebody’s second choice, their “go to”, their “maybe in the future we can try.” Turn off your phone. Only listen to the voicemails left by accidental calls.
You are more than your favorite dress..the black one with the white polka dots. You are more than the body you try to hide, the cleavage you try to cover, the stretch marks on your hips from eating too much ice-cream that summer. You have no self confidence and I don’t know why. Maybe because people tell you all the time how beautiful you are and you are the only person in this god damn world that doesn’t see it. If you could see yourself smile I swear you’d believe it.
You spend too much time waiting for the future, thinking that when you get the degree, when the seasons change, when you get that promotion your life will begin. You stupid girl, you’ve wasted a year waiting for life to begin. You naive beautiful thing, you’ve wasted so many minutes dreaming about life that you haven’t given yourself a minute to open the front door, leave your house and fucking live it.
Recently, your mother and I were searching for an answer on Google. Halfway through entering the question, Google returned a list of the most popular searches in the world. Perched at the top of the list was “How to keep him interested.”
It startled me. I scanned several of the countless articles about how to be sexy and sexual, when to bring him a beer versus a sandwich, and the ways to make him feel smart and superior.
And I got angry.
Little One, it is not, has never been, and never will be your job to “keep him interested.”
Little One, your only task is to know deeply in your soul—in that unshakeable place that isn’t rattled by rejection and loss and ego—that you are worthy of interest. (If you can remember that everyone else is worthy of interest also, the battle of your life will be mostly won. But that is a letter for another day.)
If you can trust your worth in this way, you will be attractive in the most important sense of the word: you will attract a boy who is both capable of interest and who wants to spend his one life investing all of his interest in you.
Little One, I want to tell you about the boy who doesn’t need to be keptinterested, because he knows you are interesting:
I don’t care if he puts his elbows on the dinner table—as long as he puts his eyes on the way your nose scrunches when you smile. And then can’t stop looking.
I don’t care if he can’t play a bit of golf with me—as long as he can play with the children you give him and revel in all the glorious and frustrating ways they are just like you.
I don’t care if he doesn’t follow his wallet—as long as he follows his heart and it always leads him back to you.
I don’t care if he is strong—as long as he gives you the space to exercise the strength that is in your heart.
I couldn’t care less how he votes—as long as he wakes up every morning and daily elects you to a place of honor in your home and a place of reverence in his heart.
I don’t care about the color of his skin—as long as he paints the canvas of your lives with brushstrokes of patience, and sacrifice, and vulnerability, and tenderness.
I don’t care if he was raised in this religion or that religion or no religion—as long as he was raised to value the sacred and to know every moment of life, and every moment of life with you, is deeply sacred.
In the end, Little One, if you stumble across a man like that and he and I have nothing else in common, we will have the most important thing in common:
Because in the end, Little One, the only thing you should have to do to “keep him interested” is to be you.
Your eternally interested guy,
Happy International Women’s Day
IM CRYING IN THE MIDDLE OF CLASS
Me too.i love epiphanies like that