Do you want to fall in love?

Yes. But...

Happiness is being loved for who you are.


Today, I watched Hector and the Search for Happiness (highly recommend). During the movie, this line really struck home with me. I think my recent and abundant growth has been so centered around finding the "true Veronica" here and no longer living a life of hiding from myself. It's terrifying, by the way, to be yourself. Being rejected for being fake is far more excusable and understandable. Being rejected for being yourself hurts.

When I think about falling in love, I get terrified. I am so afraid of not being enough. I am so scared that someone will only love me for the idea of me. I want someone to love me because they have seen the true me. The weird, the gross, the kind, the charming, the lacking, the spontaneous, the fragile, the brave. I want someone to have seen all of it, and they still believe that I am wonderful, beautiful and lovable.

I lived a good portion of my life trying to be someone I am not. I tried to be the provider, the good christian girl, the gay's best friend, the silent shoulder to cry on and so many other things. I worked so hard at trying to shape myself into the person I thought everyone wanted me to be. I was pretty good at it for awhile, but always got thrown off when someone new came along and wanted something different from me. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be more than one person at a time? I am no good at it.

So yes. I want to fall in love. I want someone to fall in love with me. But first I need to really figure out how to be Veronica, completely. I need to be in love with what I have to offer. I need to be enough for myself. Because if I am not enough for myself, how can I ever be enough for someone else?

That being said. I think I am almost there. I am learning to love Veronica more and more with every day. I am learning things about myself constantly. And you know what? Even with the struggles and the flaws and the potential shortcomings, I think I am pretty great.

Veronica, the doormat

“I would have loved to have seen you get mad…”

Today I was given some advice. “Get mad.”

Funny. I am not sure I ever really understood how unfathomable of a concept that is for me. I don’t even remember the last time I felt mad at a person. Legitimately, truly mad. I get mad at cars. Barking dogs. Loud music. Myself. But another person? A person I care about? Ha. Yeah right. 

I relate anger with bad choices and abandonment. My father and my sister were two of the angriest people I have ever met. And eventually they got so angry, they left. My father’s anger contributed to his alcoholism and death. My sister’s translated to addiction and separation from the family. As a teenager and as an adult, I befriended far too many people that taught me my feelings were wrong. Especially if it meant that they were in the wrong. 

Veronica, the doormat. 

At 26 years old, I have perfected the art of being neutral. Anger and strong emotions lead to loneliness and self-loathing. I don’t want to share an emotion, for the grotesque fear that it is, ultimately, the wrong one. People’s reaction to me, their true thoughts about me, absolutely terrifies me. 

I don’t want to live this way anymore. 

The other day someone described me as apathetic. I am not going to let that be the Veronica that people see anymore. I want people to see the real, passionate, true Veronica. The one who laughs, and cries, and yells, and FEELS things. 

I don’t want to coast through life without feeling the things that I want to feel. I want to embrace every emotion that comes my way, and I want to allow myself to not worry so deeply what other people are thinking of me. I am through with being afraid of living. 

I am through with letting my screwed up family and terrible old friends define my relationships now. 

This is a new era in my life.

I refuse to be the doormat, anymore. 

This Morning

I awoke with the certainty that I am worthy.

Despite all of my short comings. 
I have a weak body.
A jiggly belly.
An insatiable craving for salty foods.
I swear too much. I am not graceful.
I keep my mouth shut when I should speak up.
I have lied about my feelings.
I have lied about my intentions.
Kids make me irritated.
The idea of settling down makes me anxious (in a bad way).
I lose interest quickly.
I lose faith quickly.
I spent most of my young life pretending to be someone I am not.


However.
I am brave.
I am an excellent hugger.
When I smile, I mean it.
I love people.
I am a great cook.
The most I've ever spent on jeans is $40.
I am (can be) quick witted.
I help people get things from the top shelves.
Sunshine makes me goofy.
I will say yes to almost any adventure.
I don't mind being the driver or the DJ.
I am finally living a life as me.
And I am absolutely killing it.

I awoke this morning finally starting to believe... I am completely worthy of love. Friendship. Laughter. Success. Feelings. Passion. Life.

Flaws

I think today is the first time in my whole life I said that I am just fine the way I am, and I actually meant it.

I am done picking myself apart.
I am beautiful.
I am funny.
I am worth being around.

I am Veronica.
And I am not great in spite of my flaws, I am great because of them.

Tomorrow is a new day. And I am going to fucking kill it.
This life is too short to spend every second of it working on "fixing" everything. I just want to truly enjoy the moments I have.

My Skin

My skin is my own worst enemy.
It hangs loosely, mockingly over my bones, serving as a constant reminder of the mistakes I made in my youth. No matter how much I have grown and learned and lost, it is uncompromising. It sticks around like a once welcome house guest that has long outworn its welcome.

My skin has held me back for years. Even as the fat fell away and I grew confident in my new shape, it has a grasp on me. It's kept me from intimacy. And tank tops. It's removed me from comfort and made me feel so unloveable. It's made even the most simple movements feel like a great war of self-loathing.

I don't want to be trapped inside this prison, but I am sure I have cursed myself to a life sentence. I can only hope that I learn to face this with courage as I try to be continually honest with others about the dark cloud destroying my otherwise infallible joy.