Her scream was ear-piercing. I couldn’t get up the stairs fast enough to find out what was wrong. My two boys, then ages five and eight, were laughing hysterically as my two year old daughter, the baby and only girl, was having an epic meltdown.
“Stinkerbelle, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? Are you hurt?”
“They won’t call me a princess!” She screams and sobs again as she points an accusing finger at her brothers, who are now hunched over grabbing bellies they’re laughing so hard.
Twenty-nine years later and I’m just realizing that I am having my own epic meltdown with this whole external validation thing because I want the world to call me a princess and tell me how smart, creative, talented, and loving I am. I want to be a good person who people look up to and respect and who leaves the planet a little better than I found it. But you can’t get that by shoving yourself in peoples faces and spaces before you’ve even earned the right to such things.
Enlightenment sneeze: Don’t tell them to look at you, invite them to without words.
Do the work first.
And here’s what I know is cosmically funny. By the time I get over this whole need for external validation, it won’t matter to me if people think I’m a princess.
No comments:
Post a Comment