Butterflies

Most people who know me probably wouldn't peg me as extremely shy or insecure.  A bit more on the reserved side definitely, but definitely not an obvious recluse.  Which just goes to show how much a mask can fool the unsuspecting viewer.  I am shy.  I am terrified of meeting new people.  I'm still trying to figure out why.  My most recent theories are varied.  


A.  I'm scared of meeting people who may change my life forever because I like life the way it is (for the most part.)  


B.  I'm worried about being able to keep up with more friends than I already have.  It's really difficult to maintain close friendships with more than a few people, at least for me.  Which is partially why my circle of friends is so small.  Well, the friends I keep up with on a regular basis that is.  With the invention of Facebook and the like, it's been easier to keep up with all the people I don't see all the time.  And, of course, not talking to people for a while means that you have more to discuss when you do talk.  But I still worry about losing the close contact I have now if I add more people to that list.


C.  I think the biggest fear revolves around a rather huge insecurity on my part.  I know I'm not supposed to care what other people think of me (relatively speaking.)  I mean obviously I don't want to cease caring to the point where I sink into a murky pool of apathy and lax morals (not that I'm in any danger of that).  But I shouldn't care so much whether people like me or not.  Apparently, I'm a likable person.  I'm pretty sure I don't come across as someone who worries excessively about what other people are thinking (whether I admit it to myself or not.)  I can hold my own in a conversation with strangers, mostly by listening and responding vs. having a more active and vocal part.  Unless, of course, you get me going on my favorite topics like books, movies or Macs.  ;)  But anyways, I suppose it's some kind of defense mechanism, to a certain extent.  


I think it's safe to say that C is the most relevant and important issue at hand.  I've definitely gotten better at not needing to be part of the "popular" crowd.  I never was part of that group.  When I was growing up, I really wanted to be accepted by them - but we had relatively little in common.  I was definitely on a more innocent level than they were, for which I am forever thankful.  And once I made it to college, I didn't care so much about the popular crowd (especially after a year or two of observation.)  There is no way I'd want to be included in such a shallow group.  Of course, I'm sure they've all got good qualities of their own, but as a whole they seemed rather sad.  

So even though I've dismissed the "populars," I still struggle with acceptance in general.  I thank God for my friends who love me  just the way I am, even with all my odd quirks like a Barbie movie collection and the unstoppable desire to balance on sidewalk curbs.  But I worry too much that new groups of people will think I am strange, boring, or unsuitable for inclusion.  Rationally, I know that this fear is completely unfounded.  I shouldn't allow my past to infringe upon my future.  All I have to be is myself (even if I don't fully know who that is yet.)  


Of course, all this talk still fails to fully chase away the butterflies that invade my stomach whenever I prepare for a new experience.  My gut feeling is to burrow away into my hole so as to avoid any possibility of rejection.  And for a very long time, I willingly followed that feeling.  Due to the influence of my amazing friends, I am finally forcing myself to step outside my shell.  I know there's nothing to dread.  But I'm realizing that it's going to take a lot of time and effort to convince my irrational, emotional side of that fact.

Hopeless . . . But Not Without Hope

I'm one of those people who falls in to the "hopeless romantic" category.  I drink in the beauty of a single rose.  I daydream about happily ever after.  And I watch an excessive amount of chick flicks.  Yes, I can actually admit to that fact.  Fair warning: This post probably won't have very many deep, intelligent, philosophical points.  Mostly it's the fruit of frustration at my occasional (some days more than others) discontent with my current lot in life.  Coupled with the daydreaming dynamic, it's a dangerous combination depending on the day.  Now that we've cleared that up, I'd just like to say that I know my vision of the whole "happily ever after" in reality is skewed.  The romance of on screen couples has given me too many unrealistic examples.  (Not that I regret watching them.  Sometimes they're the perfect cure for a funk.  Or a good laugh.  Or smiles.)  But I know in reality that no relationship falls into place that easily.  You don't go from hating someone one day to loving them the next.  You don't suddenly wake up and realize you're in love with your best friend at the same time that they do.  And you definitely don't decide to marry someone after knowing them for only the better part of a week, or a weekend as the case may be.  It's nice to delude yourself every once in a while that such fantastical happy endings actually exist, but I've discovered that a delusion too often entered becomes a habit extremely hard to break.

I've had my share of broken hearts and shattered dreams.  Apparently it is possible to force your own heart to break when you fall hard for someone who doesn't share the attraction.  I don't recommend it.  Especially if you're of the same hopeless romantic type that I am.  It takes years to recover.  The only plus I can think of is the benefit of lessons learned.  You take better care of who you allow yourself to love after you experience what it's like to have it all end in vain.  Although then you run into another problem, i.e. the case of closing yourself off from all possibility of heartache.  It's my uneducated opinion that true love only comes at a high price.  You have to be willing to jump, but it's never a bad idea to give yourself a parachute just in case.

And what is true love anyways?  I know it involves self-sacrifice.  A willing of the good for the other person.  A relationship based on true friendship.  The only perfect example we have is God's love for us Who gave His only Son to save the soul of all mankind.  Given such an impeccable standard to follow, we can only hope to achieve as near a likeness as our fallen nature allows.  With the grace of God, of course, anything is possible.  I know true love exists in the human race.  I see it in the face of a parent when they see their child.  I see it in the glance of a husband at his wife.  I see it in the actions of friends and family who truly care.  I know I am so blessed to be surrounded by so much true love in my life.

But none of this rational knowledge makes waiting for the fairy tale any easier.  Neither does it help the emotional side realize that fairy tale happily ever afters like Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty don't actually exist.  At least not on a regular basis.  Maybe that's a bit cynical, but cynicism is one of the prices paid for dashed dreams.  Or maybe it's just realistic.  I mean, every girl dreams of waking up and finding her Prince Charming standing before her, but in reality that would be really creepy.

I know I can't explain this innate desire for the perfect storybook ending (or beginning).  I know that God has a plan for my life.  That He has a purpose for these deep emotions that bubble up constantly (although I've gotten really good at concealing them.)  So what do I do in the meantime?  I wait.  I listen.  I watch.  I try to be open and guarded at the same time.  I try to make friends without thinking further.  And I watch chick flicks as an outlet.  It's a comforting thought (regardless of how realistic such a thought may be) that the damsel in distress, in spite of her trials and sufferings (or maybe because of them), is always rescued in the end.  The kiss that breaks the magic spell.  The friend who becomes the dearest love.  The prince who banishes all the darkness.  The white knight who champions her in her distress.

And I wonder how I can have such feelings (for lack of a better world - darned English language) for someone I've never met.  I suppose they're just one way of God's telling me that I haven't erred in my vocational discernment.  I know, at some point (and only God knows when), I'll be walking down that aisle in a white dress towards my own happily ever after (with all the messy bits thrown in for good measure).  That one day I'll fulfill my call to marriage and motherhood.  I know I still have an enormous amount of growing to do as myself before I can even begin to think about dating someone, let alone marry them.  And I'm sure that they've got growing of their own to do.  So I remind myself of the rational explanations and succumb to the emotional lure of the fairy tale when rationality fails.