The Tale of Bright Eyes (For My Women)

Tell me if you can relate to this...

In the very beginning, you grew up seeing the world as a place welcoming your questions and curiosity. You loved triumphantly, effortlessly in fact, and found it a privilege to beam with satisfaction in the beauty of simple things. It seemed that those same simple things loved to beam right back at you. You loyally loved those who took care of you, whether mama and daddy, grandmama and pawpaw, and they taught you a lot about what woman and man’s relationship was to be formatted as. You even internalized their characteristics because since that’s what you saw, that’s what you thought you were to become. And oh girl, how much you loved you! So much so that you had no idea of what not loving yourself felt like. From your crazy strands of hair to the soft but sturdy soles of your feet, you were a conqueror and you were fully aware it.

At some point on the journey though, someone hurt you. Someone made you feel like the world wasn’t listening, did not care, did not want you. Someone made you suspicious of man’s intentions with woman and distrusting of how woman blindly adored man. Some broken person took advantage of you, some bitter person spoke anger into you, mama and daddy turned out not to be all that they seemed; no matter the case, all of a sudden the bright eyed girl who loved life as it loved her was tucked away. You did not trust her hopeful disposition, for the world was no longer a hope filled place. Whoever it was that replaced her turned away from satisfaction and simplicity and took up a twisted romance with doubt and insecurity.

That barefoot in the summer afternoon, hair sprawled everywhere as she through back her head to laugh, soft baby fat having girl was unable to find satisfaction within the natural wealth that had always been hers. She could not see the warm undertones to her skin, just that it was too dark, too light, or to frequently speckled in blemishes.  She could not feel the way her curves lovingly hugged her frame, she just saw stretch marks and cellulite, jiggling and bouncing (tell me, how did your body’s natural patterns and its love to dance become so ugly to you girl?) She could not hear the way the wind whistled at her as she walked by; she just noticed her hair being blown out of place and cursed the weather she once celebrated.

And all the while, that bright eyed girl deep, deep inside watched what went on with you. She knew that the heartache you had experienced so young was deathly contagious and that it had hardened you, so bright eyes whispered to you from your insides. In moments where the radio stations weren’t up so loud or the music videos didn’t consume your attention, she would promise you that no matter what you saw, smelled, tasted, touched or heard that you were unspeakably precious and that life, as well as her, were truly still in love with you. You waved her whispers away at first, like swatting a fly, not needing the lovey dovey distraction to deter you from your aspirations to “dress like her,” “have that guy,” and “be this size.” There was no time to love who you really were, as you were simply too focused on becoming who you really were not. But her whispers kept calling to you. Sometimes while you were sitting in the church pews, sometimes while you were at a sleepover, or sometimes when alone with a guy you desired. Bright eyes began sounding like an old friend who it just wasn’t so cool to hang out with anymore. She knew you better than anyone though, and was always there to encourage you to still take barefoot walks in the evening to recharge from your day of big girl strutting. That was your time, time to take off the heavy mask and be vulnerable, and in those moments whispers evolved into full blown conversations.

“It’s suffocating, isn’t it?” she would inquire as your toes gripped the warm cement. You’d look down and nod quietly. “I know” she’d sympathize, “It feels like it.” You would try and explain to her that the world just wasn’t how she remembered it to be, that you saw terrible things happen to remarkable people all the time, and that to end up anywhere worthwhile you had to know your role and play the part. And she would listen intently, never interrupting, but when you were done with your wild rambling and your desperate excuses, she would warmly say “it’s okay to get off the stage if you don’t like the part you’re playing, baby. This role just doesn’t suit you. And as for what’s terrible and who is remarkable, well that is all in your opinion and you know so little about other people. You don’t know what greatness that situation you perceive as terrible prepared that person for. You don’t get to see everything that happens for everyone, because it has nothing to do with you. I am very aware the world is not the place I remember it to be, trust me, but it seems that you are the one out of the two of us having trouble coping with your surroundings.”

Silence. You weren’t going to argue with her. This was about the time you would drop your sandals on the pavement and start walking home anyways, tired of feeling out of place in even your own thoughts. “But,” bright eyes would begin before you slipped your feet into your shoes “I love you like I have always loved you. I hear and feel you, and I know things have been painful, but girl don’t you know I want you. Don’t you know that I’ve never stopped wanting you? There’s not a lie you could tell, a thing you could say, a short dress you could wear, or even a person you could sleep with that could take anything away from that. You are me, and I am you, and I would absolutely never turn away from you. I don’t blame you, I cherish you. I won’t judge you; I’m here to console you after you’ve gotten through comparing and judging yourself.  No amount of money in the world, no man, and no outward approval could fill the void that you’ve been feeding since that dark moment way back then; only we can do that. We could fix it together though. We could fix it for us, but if you insist on continuing like this I won’t stop you. Just understand you also won’t stop my whispering; I’ve got too much to say when it comes to you. I will drive you crazy with butterfly kisses, I will sit up and love on you through your ugliest nights, and I will make the sweetest part of you want to dance each time you step into sunlight; that’s a promise. So be kind to you for your own sake, and if you can’t, that’s okay too. I’ll love you enough for the both of us.”

It happens every time; tears pouring down what feels like an undeserving face. Shoes back in hand, bare feet slapping swiftly against the ground as you head home. You need to have a cry, a good private cry, because you know it’s the truth, and you know that you’re worthy of it. It’s just hard to separate what your five senses have told you all these years from what you have carried in your spirit all along. Curled up in the safest part of your favorite room you posed one question, “If I trust you again…If I really trust you again, how do I know things will be okay?” A warmth filled the coldest, loneliest parts of your chest and in your heart instead of your head you heard “because things have always been better than okay, you just weren’t trusting enough to know it. Now you are.” And that was that, and you were yourself again. No more rejecting the parts of life that scared you, you gave up control and collapsed in on yourself; arising as a whole woman. You still have your painful days, insecure and anxious moments, but the undertone of your complexion has a glow you wear with honor, the curves that have been hugging you, well now you hug them right back, and when you catch your body jiggle you give it a reason to dance.  Empty has no place in you, you beam fulfillment in the face of uncertainty; and those simple things you use to love, well it turns out they are still just as in love with you. You smile at your life now; you ask the world questions and don’t mind the variety of ways the answers find you. You may not always feel good, but you always feel like yourself. That bright eyed girl became a vibrant hearted woman, and you’re back to conquering the world the only way you know how; beaming, dancing and laughing all the way.

Whether you still are bright eyed, whether you still feel in the dark, or whether you are stepping into the vibrant promise of now, this story is for you. Know that you are capable of whatever is written on your heart and that if you celebrate your life, your life will celebrate you.
Now tell me that ain’t a happy ending.