sometimes i worry what other people think of me.
hang on, cross that, make “sometimes” – “a lot of the time”
too much of the time in fact.
i get so defensive and uppity when people call me “weird”
it’s a pet hate word of mine, one that has tagged me for as long as I can remember.
see, the thing is, I have a great self esteem ~ I think the world of myself, and do of others also… so when I get anything I perceive to be a negative response back… then I find myself crawling into my old shell of defensiveness and shyness and plot my revenge…
my revenge of thinking badly of others, of “you’ll be sorry’s” and “well, bugger you! I’m not going to share myself with you if that’s the way you feel!”
i also worry what others think of me ~ the way I dress, the way I act.
even when I don’t really particularly want to care, I still worry that people don’t see me the way I want them to see me.
Even when I know myself who I am and what I am.
Why is it we fail to be content with how we love ourselves and the multitudes of blessings of love we receive on a daily basis? Why we hunger for the whole wide world to love us, when there is a world that already does? Then I get this email from Notes from the Universe…
” One day it will all be a distant memory, Leonie, and I can tell you now, with the supreme confidence of someone who’s gone ahead in time to know, that you’ll look back on this life and be so flush with love and admiration for yourself, your journey, and who it made you, that you’ll wonder, as I now do, how it could possibly have escaped you then.
Maybe this will help.
PS. You rock, “Mini-Me”, you so rock. And it’s never too early to see it. ”
And there in that, is IT.
All you really need.
Love big enough it fills in the *perceived* holes and chips of your social circle.
Love wide enough to open your eyes to see all the love that already is there.
Love to help me finally understand that when I don’t think I am seen or loved, it is only myself that is not seeing or loving myself.
I love you.