Things that make me feel special

I have this pervasive fear. It is a fear which rattles me to the very core; it is a fear I have battled for seven years. This fear can find me in blithe conversations--this fear can break into my intrinsic behavioral patterns and dissuade me from normalcy--leaving paranoid, awkward actions in its place. This fear and I have gone head-to-head through long rounds of tears and prayers, yet sometimes it still sticks like to me, like silly putty to my brain. Sometimes I CAN'T SHAKE IT.

I fear that I am bothering people just by being me.

Blame it on a two-year period when I felt, and was told, on a regular basis, that I WAS bothering people by being me. That I was weird. That I was crazy. That something was wrong with me because I was different, unconventional, or colored outside of the lines--however you want to put it, it stuck. Sticks and stones disproved.

So the other day, as I was having a conversation over dinner with one of my best friends--I was asked why certain people hold a place of adoration in my social circle. I gave an answer which surprised me.

"They each do something very different that comforts and speaks to an inner fear or vulnerability; something that stops it, dead in its tracks, and it is no more."

What were these things? My subconscious rose to consciousness and lucidity occurred. I was particularly excited to listen as I categorized each action before my very ears.

1) A consistent "you're not bothering me."

I was told, once, bluntly (in an intuitive stroke of inspiration) "I don't want you to ever feel as though you're bothering me by talking to me or sharing your thoughts. You're not." BAM! Before this was uttered I didn't realize how very much I needed to hear it.

2) An, "I love you just the way you are."

I am very insecure about my epidermis. I'll just say it. My skin isn't the seamless porcelain vibrance that you see in magazines. It is battered and worn, and hides under layers of makeup, which I cling to like a comfort blanket, shield, or buckler. I am terrified of waking up some future morning with an unsuspecting husband, who consequently look overs, and goes "aaaahhhh!" in response to the above. Also, my hair does not behave as it should in the a.m.

Perhaps this sounds neurotic, but I can promise you it causes grief. I worry about this due to the aforementioned deeper worry--I suppose I fear that I will disappoint someone, just the way I am. And once, while a dear friend was visiting, he woke up to visit with me before leaving to hit the road. I woke up straight from a sleeping bag and visited with him before he took his leave. I adored his presence and conversation, but felt that my visage must be giving him horrible inconvenience, paining him in at least some little way. So I apologized.

"I'm really sorry. Look at me. I'm a terrible frump."

And whatever it was, however he knew, he stopped me. He looked me straight in the eye and said, "Don't even worry about it. That's not even what this is about. It's about this: us talking and having nice conversation. I like this."

I felt sheepish, silly, apologetic for letting my inner fear show--but I glowed appreciatively. I couldn't keep it inside. He had instantaneously not only identified, but quieted, one of my fears. I felt so happy...just the way I was.

3) A check-in.

I have a dear friend who writes to check in on me. We don't communicate as often as I'd like, due to the haphazard busy-onslaught of life, but this friend makes it a point to write every few months to check up on me. To give me an update, to send words of encouragement, to check in; to seek and inquire about my life. I feel cared for beyond compare.

4) A question. Or two, or three.

I think the recipe for a decent love potion is as follows: Ask questions, and patiently wait for the answers. Think about the answers, respond, and ask more questions. Make it a point to do this one on one, in all genuine-ness, in a calm and quiet manner. Take 'love' potion however you wish, but it is a dead on filial and agape elixir; perhaps eros, too. I have a dear friend who practices this trait, and it never fails to make me feel valued.

I sat there, out at dinner with a friend, subconscious fully satisfied after having found lucid words in a concrete sentence, and I realized that each of these actions, in their own way, either directly or indirectly addressed a very important part of who I am. The part which I attempt to hide, the part which is in such desperate need of repair.

And when we stop to fill another's need, well, others will probably write blogs entitled "things that make me feel special" in grateful appreciation and accolade.

Or not.

But in the chaos theory of our multi-faceted, baggage ridden personalities, little things can mean the world. I think filling a need is the epitome of Christ-like-ness.

So thank you.