Thank you, I'm fine.

I had a couple of late-breaking epiphanies today.

I’ve been struggling the past couple of weeks with changes and holidays and parents and flooded apartment and have barely been able to keep my head above water emotionally. However, I know after a bleak period like this there tends to be insight. Here’s what I’ve gotten this time.

1. I’m just fine as I am, thank you very much. There is nothing wrong with me. I am still thinking about why the OOMA (Object of My Affection, for those of you new to this blog) didn’t choose to be with me. I’ve intellectually been able to say, oh, well, too bad, his choice. But today, it hit me. It was his choice. It had nothing to do with me and everything to do with him. There is nothing wrong with me. Nothing. He didn’t not choose me because I gained some weight or I showed him my raw emotional side or any of the other million things that have gone through my head since that night that I saw him realize he had a choice. We were out for his birthday, we were seeing his friends play at a bar. I looked fantastic. I went to the ladies room and came back. He put his arm out and I slid comfortably under it, snuggling close to him and felt like a million bucks. And he went to introduce me. He said, “This is my…” Then he stopped and looked at me. In that moment, he chose. He could have said my girlfriend and changed my life. He could have not paused and just said my friend, Susan, and we would have gone on just fine. But he looked at me and saw a girlfriend. And he was not able to accept that. He was not able to make that transition because he chose not to. Not because there was anything wrong with me, or with him, for that matter. Just because he wasn’t ready or chose not to be ready or whatever. It was not me. I am fine. There is nothing wrong with me.

That sounds simple but it hit me like a freight train today. I had found some pictures of us from some wonderful times we had and it really broke my heart that nothing ever went further than friends. Then, while driving and going over every single second of our recent friendship, a tiny, quiet, sane, beautiful voice said, “It’s not you. You’re just fine. It’s him. He chose not to have you. He chose for his own reasons. It has nothing to do with you. You’re fine.” And there was a quiet peace that followed.

I’m just fine as I am, thank you very much.

2. I’m just fine as I am, thank you very much. I am proud of what I have done with my life. Taking control and leaving a very miserable, abusive, controlled and suffocating marriage. I haven’t always done well financially, I haven’t always done well emotionally. But I’ve taken those steps to get there financially and emotionally and I have been true to myself. I am proud of the work I have done, no matter what others have said in cruel, vicious, mean ways, striking out at me where I am most vulnerable - my ability to create. I am a long way from the artist I want to be, whether as a painter or as a writer or as a director. But I pour my heart and soul into every single piece of work I do and I do the best I can with what I have. I have created so much in just under four years that sometimes, it’s hard to believe. But I have allowed others to taint that accomplishment with their bitterness and their smallness. I saw myself through blurred eyes and thought their criticisms were true, despite the fact that my work has gotten more and more recognition as time has gone by. I don’t have to make you happy. I am making me happy. I know I am a great writer. I know I am a solid director, getting better and better. I know I am a strong artist who is learning and growing and discovering. I know I am fine and I know who I am creatively.

3. I’m just fine as I am, thank you. My family still sees me as a struggling, uncertain, baby girl of 12 who doesn’t know what she wants because she’s living in a family she doesn’t understand. They see me as not knowing anything, as not capable of anything, because I’m the baby and my sister and brother are older and have achieved so much more, so therefore, I really don’t matter because I don’t contribute anything to the family. I don’t have a wall of trophies. I don’t have newspaper articles about me. I don’t have a six figure a year job. I don’t exist. I don’t matter enough to even deserve more than four minutes on the phone on Thanksgiving while my folks are staying with my sister. I am invisible. To them. But I am not invisible to me. I cannot change their impression. If I won Oscars for best writer, best director and best picture, there would still be criticism of what I said in my acceptance speech or how I stood at the podium or what dress I wore. Or, in reality, they would never even notice. But I notice. And I am not invisible to myself. I am solid and strong and worthy. I can’t change them and I have to stop trying. My success isn’t six figures but it’s doing a job I love. It’s writing pieces I am proud of and that people want to perform. It’s directing award-winning plays and short films. It’s success in creating my life, not just flowing along, doing what makes me visible to those who aren’t living their life. I am visible, I am capable, and I am acknowledged and I exist for those who can truly see the qualities that are intangible and invisible and underneath. I am just fine as I am, thank you. Invisible to you but not invisible to myself.

I am just fine. I am learning the truth behind that simple statement. I am just fine. The rest doesn’t matter.