I’m amazing and you just don’t see the value in me. You don’t see how much love I have to give. You don’t recognize my potential, my strength. It’s okay—I’ll find someone better. I’ll find someone who sees me. I’ll find him without looking—just by being my happy, content self. By focusing on my dreams, my future, my plans, my path and by loving the journey.
But why didn’t you want me?
This questions keeps burning a hole in my mind. Obsessively, throughout my day, this feeling of rejection keeps coming back. What did I do wrong? When did things change? Was I too needy when I asked you to meet up instead of waiting for you to suggest it? Was it my body that pushed you away? Did I show too much emotion? I feel weak for having these questioning thoughts.
I was fine with my single life before I met you. I didn’t want a man. When it started, it was fun. I deserved some attention, I thought. What harm could it do? I took it lightly. I was completely in control. I was secretly surprised that you wanted me. I didn’t feel good enough. I should have known that feeling of inferiority couldn’t lead to anything real and lasting.
When did I start behaving like I wanted more out of you? Was it my inner princess, believing she must follow the fairy-tale story to be happy? Is my life incomplete until prince charming is found? But the real me—the logical me—questions these concepts. I don’t believe in allowing my social conditioning to define my views. Why is this so hard to break? Why does the princess dominate and ruin the relationship she so eagerly wants?
My princess and my logical self are like siblings in constant rivalry. The logical self is the mature, reliable and responsible older sibling. The princess is the needy, demanding, spoils younger one who dreams big and believes in hope. I am the parent, trying to control, mediate between and honor both parts of me, because neither one is inherently right or wrong.
Dear princess, you are a part of me and I will learn to accept you. Some days I hate you. You make me feel confused, vulnerable and out of control. But I can’t deny you. You are part of me and somehow you have to make sense to me. I thank you for keeping me hopeful, playful and excited by the possibility of fantasy. I thank you for giving me the strength to be vulnerable.
