(I started writing this a few weeks ago, and somehow never actually posted it.)
I've said many times over the last few years that I wish I could see myself through other people's eyes, to see what they see when they look at me. I've especially thought this when I was feeling low, and couldn't see the beauty, internal or external, that other people told me was there.
Recently, I think I've been able to see what other people saw. It seems odd, but it's been little comments, or laughs, or smiles, that have give me this gift. It's generally been things that just popped out, more than things people actually seemed to think about before saying.
It makes me smile, and feel good...and realize who I really am. It makes me realize that yes, I am someone worth loving, and that my quirks aren't something to hide...they're what make me who I am.
Some of the recent comments that struck me have been:
"Yeah, 'cause rest is something other people do." (When I was talking to someone about the fact that I was doing housework on my day off after an exhausting night at work.) I had to laugh a bit, because doing housework was actually more restful than doing nothing at that point.
"How are you always smiling?" (from people at work during or after long days and busy events.) This one made me think a bit...even though the answer I gave right away was "practice". Somehow, last winter, I learned to just smile bigger when more things went wrong. Really, though, smiling is generally a better response than grumping. Besides, if you smile long enough, you actually end up happier.
"Even in the middle of this, you're still trying to help me fix [her] and I." This was actually probably one of the most important ones, because it helped me later to realize that no matter what was said in pain and anger, I really wasn't a bad person.
Lastly, I've found that it's not even always comments that show me glimpses of myself. Walking through a parking lot with a friend, I reached down and snapped a bit off a plant from a planter, feeling the leaf and stem, and smelling it. He just smiled and chuckled, and when I asked why, his answer was something like "you're just being you."
I've said many times over the last few years that I wish I could see myself through other people's eyes, to see what they see when they look at me. I've especially thought this when I was feeling low, and couldn't see the beauty, internal or external, that other people told me was there.
Recently, I think I've been able to see what other people saw. It seems odd, but it's been little comments, or laughs, or smiles, that have give me this gift. It's generally been things that just popped out, more than things people actually seemed to think about before saying.
It makes me smile, and feel good...and realize who I really am. It makes me realize that yes, I am someone worth loving, and that my quirks aren't something to hide...they're what make me who I am.
Some of the recent comments that struck me have been:
"Yeah, 'cause rest is something other people do." (When I was talking to someone about the fact that I was doing housework on my day off after an exhausting night at work.) I had to laugh a bit, because doing housework was actually more restful than doing nothing at that point.
"How are you always smiling?" (from people at work during or after long days and busy events.) This one made me think a bit...even though the answer I gave right away was "practice". Somehow, last winter, I learned to just smile bigger when more things went wrong. Really, though, smiling is generally a better response than grumping. Besides, if you smile long enough, you actually end up happier.
"Even in the middle of this, you're still trying to help me fix [her] and I." This was actually probably one of the most important ones, because it helped me later to realize that no matter what was said in pain and anger, I really wasn't a bad person.
Lastly, I've found that it's not even always comments that show me glimpses of myself. Walking through a parking lot with a friend, I reached down and snapped a bit off a plant from a planter, feeling the leaf and stem, and smelling it. He just smiled and chuckled, and when I asked why, his answer was something like "you're just being you."
