Monday, August 13, 2007
There are certain pet peeves that each person hates having to confront.
I hate being lied to –
It's an insult and a waste of real time before the truth comes up.
I hate being continually interrupted –
It shows disrespect for what I have to say and provokes equal disinterest.
I hate being compared to other people.
When I was younger I hated being compared to my older cousins:
“Your cousin already knows how to make her own bed…”
“Why can't you ride your bicycle without side wheels like your cousin…”
“If so and so can do it, why can't you?”
My parents didn't realise that comparisons such as these had the opposite effect if their intent was to motivate me.
Feelings of failure and worthlessness only cause resentment.
It took me a long time to finally convince myself that the only person that I have anything to prove to is me.
The race is only with myself.
Once you've got this figured out, it becomes easier to ignore these kinds of comments be they from your friends, family or even your boss…
There's only one person's criticism that will always get you down no matter how much you fight it – your own.
Isn't it strange how you can be both your best friend and your worst enemy?
That at the same time that you pick yourself up, you bring yourself down…
That to quieten your own voice in your head is practically mission impossible.
This weekend, I faced one of the hardest comparisons I've yet had to compare myself with… the ex.
And although it seems easy enough to say “She’s the past, I'm the future” the truth is you find yourself magnifying all your flaws against her apparent perfection.
Crazy, but inevitable… because you want to measure up, because you want to be the better choice, worthy of his love.
On her territory, at an event of meaning, at a critical moment you realise that you can't compete with all the past moments they've shared.
There are just things that don't happen twice, those “first moments” that are only “first” once.
And although his friends tell you that you are the better choice, at a distance you wonder if they tell her the same.
Just as my head began to ache from the internal arguments that I repeatedly told myself were futile… I felt his hand beneath the table.
He put it in its usual place upon his leg and put his hand over it.
Even if he hadn't said a word the look in his eyes told me that he too had been taking his own measurements and was certain of the choice he’d made.
Over and over I was told in the smallest gestures that I'm the one…
It was in the way he looked at me;
The way he appreciated me from the corner of his eye;
How he held me to him on the dance floor;
It was in his kiss.
And it was his love that made all comparisons futile… because if he loves me for all that I am then it doesn't matter how I compare to anyone else.
He silenced all doubts when he said “I feel as if you were made for me.”