Monday, March 9, 2009

She was designed more for public than for private

To the outside world she looks normal...she's beautiful, her smile can light up a room. She is witty and intelligent. You watch her walk in her 4 inch heels and business attire and you marvel at her success. She carries herself with such confidence, almost arrogance, and yet when you speak to her you are surprised to see care and concern in her eyes. If only you could be like her- she has everything.

Now stop and take a closer look. Look deep into her blue eyes and tell me what you see? Do you see her self knowledge of how wonderful and successful she is? No? Look again, what is it you see in her blue eyes?
"They look sad", you sound surprised. You are confused. What does this successful woman have to be sad about? She has us all spellbound with her magnetism, and yet, there is something in her eyes that is heartbreaking. Your heart wants to reach out to hers, to comfort it, to understand what it is that haunts her so much that the pain leaks out of her eyes. You approach her to say hello, you look deep into her eyes, and she knows. Immediately she senses that you see deep into her soul and she forcefully closes her eyes, but not before you see the depth of her pain.

You sit together. You reach out to hold her hand in yours, a gesture that makes her noticeably uncomfortable and she pulls away.

"Tell me", you say quietly, "tell me of your pain and I will share it and help you carry it."
She slowly opens her eyes and looks at you, the intensity is almost too much to bear and you fight the urge to look away. You see the pain of abandonment and loneliness. You feel the neglect she felt as a child having been denied basic human rights of love and nurture and safety. You feel her losses and her triumphs and the fact that she shares them with no one. You see the pain of losing a child. You see the love she has for her living children, so sure and so strong. Yet you feel her fear of not being around for them, of not raising them well, of letting them down. Your heart fills up with the knowledge that this woman has such wonderful gifts and a great capacity to love, so strong and so deeply. But you see her soul, shattered, filled with the feelings of heartbreak and emptiness when that love was ripped out of her heart.

Now you are the one who closes your eyes, against the glimpse of a soul crying out for comfort. This woman does not have it all. She suffers like everyone else. She has hopes and dreams, feelings of self-loathing, doubt and despair. She is no better than anyone else, the mask she wears is just more convincing.

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