When all else falls away

When all else falls away, I realize that I actually have a whole lot going for me. I can see that now, look it in the eye without batting my lashes coyly in an “aw shucks” gesture of deference. Hold - or even match - its clear, penetrating gaze. Let it filter through me, dispersing small shreds of calm clarity, confidence, and strength that feels superhuman, probably because I’m comparing it to how little that feeling arises otherwise.

I’ve spent much of my 45 years of life mounting a case against this plaintiff, the one arguing that all is well and I’m just fine as I am – that I’m not in need of some serious renovation, if not a total teardown. It’s a start – being able to lock eyes, if only for a short time, with all the deeply buried insecurities, all the lies I heard and internalized, instead of swatting them away like flies – removing myself from their incessant, maddening buzzing, as I so wish I had done. What is wrong with a person who would react that way, I’ve asked myself over and over again. And the real answer is finally shocking me, shaking me by the shoulders and not letting me look away.

“NOTHING!!!!!” it screams, vibrating my eardrums with visceral pain. Though the sentiment is kind, the delivery is jarring. Terrifying, really, because to take off this costume of humorous, deprecating loathing is to walk free and naked into a world that has rejected me before – has not always appreciated my overexposure. That actually ridiculed it – sunk in its teeth and shook me violently into submission.