princess

Once upon a time, there was a girl who was afraid of her own shadow. She kept to herself, escaping her own seclusion through books and playacting. Sometimes the characters were only shadows of herself, but more often, they were outlandish visions of what she hoped to one day be.

All along, she was picked on and bullied for being different, independent, alone. What she really was, was lonely, foreign, even in her own home. For a time, when she got older, she would pretend to have a boyfriend to snuggle with while watching television. She would never make up actual names for them, but would simply refer to them as "my guy." She even occasionally had arguments with her imaginary friends, in order to have some quality time alone. All in all, though, she dreamed of being swept off her feet and living happily ever after.

By and by, a man came along and tried to sweep her off her feet. He said all the right things....most of the time. He did all the right things, presented the right gifts, paid her the right compliments.....when he was in the mood to. In short, he broke her heart. And yet, deep down, she knew that he was not "her guy" at all; just a cheap imitation.

With a broken heart, but a new outlook--including a renewed interest in being outside of herself--she set off on a journey to discover what lie both inside her, and outside her world. What she discovered opened her eyes in more ways than she could count. First, broken hearts, when pieced back together, can be much stronger than they started. Friends could have substance--both physical and cerebral--that intrigued and interested her. The world is a frightening and exciting place, and should be embraced fully. Faith really can move mountains, and keep together the smallest of particles. Faith matters.

She discovered that people could let her down; but also that she was certainly capable of letting as many others down in her lifetime. No one is perfect. No one. No one. Everyone has secrets, pains, scars--even joys!--that they resist sharing for fear of judgement, recrimination, hatred, most of all, for fear of misunderstanding.

While still a girl on a quest of learning, she did meet "her guy" and was caught quite unawares by him. By his very existence. He was kind, sweet, loving. He had flaws, fears, scars. But he was more than just worthy, he was real. Real in the sense that he did more than simply exist; he lived his life, he laughed, he cried, he yelled. He loved, with all his heart, everything and everyone dear to him. In him, she saw what she hoped to see in 10...20...in 99 years. Every day.

They wed.

Happily ever after is something that takes time. And work. Lots of work--physical, mental and emotional work. There is no training for it. There is no barometer to compare one relationship to another, because the comparisons are superficial. Not one couple she met as she became a woman was willing to share their flaws in a personal way. She grew to believe it normal to blame another for problems, issues, stresses, for pain. She grew to believe that others did this because it was the right thing to do, whether it felt right or not. And it did not.

She began once again to withdraw. At first, it was a defense: she realized, somehow, that pushing the blame away, instead of embracing it, getting to know it, and changing it, was unhealthy--and very contagious. Her initial withdrawal was from the negative energy, but she found she had so little positive energy left within herself, that she wanted, needed, to retreat to her childhood world of books and imaginary characters; of aloneness (though not loneliness, she was never going back there if she could help it!). She didn't fit there. She was a woman now, and the world of "girl" was too limiting; too unknowing and unknowable.

Instead, she found a strength she did not realize she had developed. She watched her guy do battle, do his work, find his way. She watched him get lost from time to time, and offered direction when she could. And she remembered one of the most important lessons she had learned on her journey. Occasionally, paths diverge, and continue. Occasionally, one must walk alone, or run ahead, or lag behind. Occasionally, one must sit and ponder.

She walked ahead for the wrong reasons: she was frustrated. She told herself she was simply determined, but really, she wanted to forge on, no matter what. When she relented, and turned around, she found that all those around her had the same thought, but chose another path. She had a choice once again: to become lost herself, or to continue on the path she believed in. Others may judge her decision, but she knew, from all that she had learned, that most of those who judge have something of their own to hide, scars they are afraid of reopening, pain (or joy) too great to share willingly. For them, it is far easier to lash out, to try and open wounds that are long healed and forgotten.

Her heart held fast. Somehow, the edges of the old pain had created strong and supple bonds with the joy and happiness of the new found love and livelihood. She felt younger than her girlish self, and yet knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was not in that alone place. She now had her guy, and most importantly, her faith--in goodness, in forgiveness, in Truth, and in herself.

She had become.