Week 4: What does narcissism have to do with me?
When I first understood how much he cared for me, I thought the look in my eyes might have resembled that of a starving woman presented with a table that overflowed with food and told she could eat as much as she wanted. How could the bountiful buffet be anything other than an illusion? How could the man who cared for me so much after only a couple weeks of dating be more than a fantasy I had created from whole cloth?
I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered how I could have possibly earned this outpouring of verbal love letters. The other shoe had to drop at some point. Maybe all the affection would stop if I slept with him. Maybe he just wanted to try to control me. The metaphorical table of food had to be poisoned. Each alternate explanation carried the assumption that I was not worth loving, encrusted on my skin after years of straining for friendships and, later, looking at my friends’ loving relationships from the outside.
But I had never been happier. As I shared my bemused joy with friends and acquaintances, they each expressed their happiness and told me that I deserved a good relationship after waiting so long. So I stopped waiting for my relationship to vanish in a puff of smoke and allowed myself to fall in love, as much as one can possibly give one’s heart permission to do anything it isn’t already inclined to do. Overcome with the need to tell him I loved him, I picked up the phone. Common sense prevailed. A phone call at two in the morning will never be a proper form for a declaration of love, for those who care about proper forms. Besides, the intensity of emotions multiplies at night, only to fade upon sunrise. I set the phone aside.
I asked myself if I still loved him the next morning. Yes, I did. Almost a year later, that love still overwhelms me sometimes, even though I no longer have to ask whether his love for me is an illusion. I grew comfortable over the last year. I began to believe it when he told me I deserved nothing but good things.
So I am worth loving. What about the next leap of actually loving myself? That part isn’t as easy. I have to live in my own skin and face my own flaws each day. That makes it harder to accept those flaws. I doubt that a day will ever come when I face the troubles life brings while feeling fully comfortable with myself. When I wake up each Monday, prepare for another week in my dead-end part-time job that doesn’t pay the bills, and consider my fruitless search for full-time employment, I face a situation more conducive to tearing me down than building me up. At least love helps carry me through the rough times and gives me strength to push forward.
Only I can walk the path toward accepting myself, flaws and all. But having someone to show me the way helps.
Thanks to ecosopher for her beta feedback!
I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered how I could have possibly earned this outpouring of verbal love letters. The other shoe had to drop at some point. Maybe all the affection would stop if I slept with him. Maybe he just wanted to try to control me. The metaphorical table of food had to be poisoned. Each alternate explanation carried the assumption that I was not worth loving, encrusted on my skin after years of straining for friendships and, later, looking at my friends’ loving relationships from the outside.
But I had never been happier. As I shared my bemused joy with friends and acquaintances, they each expressed their happiness and told me that I deserved a good relationship after waiting so long. So I stopped waiting for my relationship to vanish in a puff of smoke and allowed myself to fall in love, as much as one can possibly give one’s heart permission to do anything it isn’t already inclined to do. Overcome with the need to tell him I loved him, I picked up the phone. Common sense prevailed. A phone call at two in the morning will never be a proper form for a declaration of love, for those who care about proper forms. Besides, the intensity of emotions multiplies at night, only to fade upon sunrise. I set the phone aside.
I asked myself if I still loved him the next morning. Yes, I did. Almost a year later, that love still overwhelms me sometimes, even though I no longer have to ask whether his love for me is an illusion. I grew comfortable over the last year. I began to believe it when he told me I deserved nothing but good things.
So I am worth loving. What about the next leap of actually loving myself? That part isn’t as easy. I have to live in my own skin and face my own flaws each day. That makes it harder to accept those flaws. I doubt that a day will ever come when I face the troubles life brings while feeling fully comfortable with myself. When I wake up each Monday, prepare for another week in my dead-end part-time job that doesn’t pay the bills, and consider my fruitless search for full-time employment, I face a situation more conducive to tearing me down than building me up. At least love helps carry me through the rough times and gives me strength to push forward.
Only I can walk the path toward accepting myself, flaws and all. But having someone to show me the way helps.
Thanks to ecosopher for her beta feedback!