So three years ago I found out that I am perfectly worthy of love just as I am. Don’t need to prove anything, earn anything, be anyone else. Nope, just plain old me.
But in order to be happy, being loved isn’t enough, right? You have to actually be loving and be responsible. Manageable, right?
But heck, why stop there? Why not be loving, responsible and all the other things that I’ve invested 21 years into trying to become? Smart? Talented? Attractive? So I know I’m worthwhile without doing anything, but hell, why not go ahead and prove it in every way humanly possible just to be safe? Just for good measure?
So there has been a guilty fantasy in the back of my mind that maybe someday I could become a rocket
scientist, supermodel, female version of Gandhi– Mother Teresa 2.0, if you will. Now new and improved. Still manageable, right?
Then when people complimented me (“Oh you’re so smart/talented/beautiful”) I could humbly brush it off with a loving wave of the hand. “Oh nonsense. None of that is who I am, nor does it make me happy.”
It’s like I’m trying to pick and choose personality traits off of a take-out menu. Yes, hello I’d like a number for with a dash of humility, hold the pride, and make it extra spicy, if you please.
I want to have my cake and eat it too. After all, what is the point in having a goddamn cake if you don’t get to eat it?
Gosh, what a joke. Let’s go through the list. Already not a supermodel at a stunning five feet and two inches so we can cross that off the list. Pretty much gave up the rocket scientist schtick when I dropped out of college. Mother Teresa? Ha. Haha. Nope, not quite. No, not yet.
So why not keep trying anyway? Why not continue the Borg-like quest for perfection?
Short answer: because it freaking sucks.
Long answer: because it inhibits my ability to trust the fundamental truth that I learned three years ago, that I truly AM lovable regardless of all my bullshit pursuits. Because it makes me indefinitely unsatisfied, a horse trotting after a carrot that it will never reach. Carrots aren’t even that good anyway. Because it keeps me ungrateful for and distracted from this remarkable gift I’ve been given.
Things get even more mucked up in my head because I truly enjoy a lot of these things I’ve used as tools to prove my worth. I love learning. I enjoy fashion. But you know, it won’t kill me to admit I don’t remember shit about quantum mechanics. Or to play dress up at home in front of a mirror and then change into sweatpants before heading out the door.
Au contraire, mon capitan. Soup for the soul. Good stuff. Try it sometime.
Nah, the only thing that matters is remembering that I am worth it and sharing this gift with others. The love is enough.