Self-Care Challenge Day Four

May 28, 2009 Candace Morris 5 Comments

Oh wicked Thursday. I had planned an entire day for myself complete with leisurely morning, fabulous lunch date, movie, evening alone. I still did all of these things, but dears, today I did them with the heavy burden of my life-long friend, Insecurity.

She woke up with me and said some unkind words. These words they hurt my feelings.

Perfect. Now my own feelings are hurting my feelings.

The saint had his weekly brewther's night at his parents, so I have from 8am until 10pm alone. I decided to execute the plan even though I felt like crawling into a bottle of french red wine for the next 12 hours. What else could woo my woundedness out of my being like a luxurious day out? Also, it was freaking gorgeous here today and my new dress needed walking.

But I couldn't ditch her. Every time I turned a beautiful downtown corner, she was there. Every time I ran ahead and thought I had lost her, there she was. Every time I took a sip of champagne, she stared at me blankly from across the table.

By all definition, I had a fabulous day. Correction: I DID a fabulous day. I donned my strapless dress (don't tell joel, he hates them) and tennis shoes, plugged in my Depeche Mode, and sauntered out to a new-to-me French bistro downtown. I sat outside after braving the "table for one?" question THREE times (the hostess/water girl/server) during the lunch rush, and enjoyed every second of it. Champagne? Yes. Baguette? But of course. Artichoke lentil soup? Naturally. Profiteroles? I suppose I must. Espresso? Well, shoot.

I then wandered around the market with my film SLR and shot away...and in that small vacuum of time, I forgot that it had a nasty little bite in my heart that kept scratching.

I wandered up Pike to see a chic-flick. I was the ONLY one in the theatre. Typically I would find this funny and a bit ironic, but not today. I needed not to be alone there...apparently the gods heard and sent in two girls to sit behind me and watch my back against theater rapists. Because they totally exist. I got my girl-fix of tears and headed home in the breezy late-afternoon.

Two chili-cheese corn dogs later (sigh), I am sitting here with a long night ahead of me and wondering how much money I will have to spend to pamper myself out of this insecurity and actually FEEL pampered today.

And that's the thing. I should seriously know better than to avoid my soul like that. After I scrubbed the kitchen without even knowing it, I realize that I was thinking about a very long time ago in grade school when I was ditched by everyone (don't feel pity for me, I did it right back), and then even further back to a big man getting in his car and driving down the street. And these are the scenes that replay when I turn to face my insecurity. They hurt a bit too much. This is why I usually ignore it, deny it a voice, abuse it, etc.

What's the alternative? I could continue doing this and live with the guilt of my reaction to it, which is to say, think, or do something wicked to someone else whenever I feel as to restore the balance. I'm not great at that first strike, but I can strike back with cobra-like vehemence. However, I am really, really tired of making a smeary, toxic muck of people I love and convincing myself that it was their own misunderstanding.

I would like to be that femme fatal who turns around, runs towards her predator with double-fisted guns blazing, and looks really hot in a muddy tank top and shorts in the process.

Unfortunately, I am the chubby little 2-year old with tear-stained red cheeks who is left behind and who never wants to feel that way again. But it is becoming apparent from the scratches left behind by my soul that I must turn around and find courage to face it. Though I cannot take big girl steps and look fabulous doing it, I can take steps the size of a child.

I think it's called baby-steps.
And this baby needs a drink.

Day Four: Lesson learned.
Outward indulgences cannot penetrate the soul without inward kindness.


Don't ask me for a favor
Don't ask me for a plea
I'll only do your bidding
If you stop cajoling me

But I'll cry, cry, cry like the best
Cry, cry, cry like the rest
Don't ask me to forgive you
I'm not so kindly blessed

Frustrating as it seems
You're not the first today
Excuse me for my needs
There is no other way

So I'll cry, cry, cry like the best
Cry, cry, cry like the rest
Don't ask me to forgive you
I'm not so kindly blessed
Don't ask me to forgive you
I'm not so kindly blessed


You Might Also Like