“You have’t seen me naked.”

I sad on the couch last evening, my son asleep for more than 3 hours. I was alone. I was done photo editing. Done surfing the web. Paged thru a few mags in bed. Came back out to the living room and turned on the TV... surfed thru Apple TV’s list of movies to rent.

Time.

I have time. Time alone. Time to think. Time to be.

A rarity.

And they came to me. Those negative thoughts. The crisp knock on the door in the cool dark silence. I was nudged and the message was clear: three areas of your life in which you’ve been asked to leave, the voice stated, articulate and loud. Maybe in not so many words have you been asked to leave. Maybe not always kindly. Maybe not directly. Maybe not with any contempt—in at least one case.

Still.

I’ve been rejected, so it seems. It seemed last night anyway. In the stillness. In the silence.

And I wonder where and in whom I can find lasting support.

It seems I’ve broken a few of those bridges, without realizing truly what I was doing at the time.

The first y’all know about. The Marriage. I really don’t need to say any more about it. You know what I went thru. You know how I felt, how I dealt.

The third y’all have been standing by me. The job. I know it was for economic reasons. I know that. I know I’d still have that job had not a few clients cut back this year. I know it. I know.

And yet, I know. I know they had to make a choice. So... Why was I chosen? I left with that question unanswered. It was asked. I asked. I was blunt. And when I left, it had not been answered.

And yet, I know the answer.

I know.

…

What I have not shared with you here on RP was another loss. This one about 1 year ago. Friends. Women who I thought were my friends. Two of them actually. Two women, older women… Women older than me who (one would think) acted more maturely and wisely than me. They rejected me. I still do not know what I did wrong. And that concerns me. Because they were a part of a large community in which I found support. (Sort of like a church community, or maybe better, like a book club group.) And I felt "run out of town" by them. Just the two of them, but the fierce, cold, stern looks I was bestowed left me feeling unsafe, like an outcast.

So I left that group of friends.

Not quickly. It took some time. I fought it. I fought for my right to be in that community of friends for quite some time. All the while brushing off their contempt for me.

I left. Quietly.

It seems not many noticed. 

Not one person from that support community has called to see how I am. Where I am. Why I’m not around anymore.

Well, one person emailed. Not that long ago too, and I had only departed this past April. It hasn’t been that long. But long enough for one person to notice. He asked if he had said something to make me leave. Funny. He couldn’t be further from the truth. I really liked this old man. He also shared how I had helped him, how I had been an inspiration to him and had I not shared from the heart when we chatted, he would not be connected to that group, the group I’m no longer a part of.

That was nice.

But it wasn’t him

And I think, Is is me? Is there something about me? Am I a square peg? Am I just that awful that, over time, people are disillusioned with my smile. :)

I met up with a friend on Friday. She has a beautiful baby (darn, I had left my camera behind) and she looked great! Her baby is 9 months old and you can hardly tell she had a baby. Truly, she’s glowing and she looks peaceful, happy, adorable. I told her so, told her one could not even tell she had a baby. Her response was (as had mine also been after losing the baby weight),

“You haven’t seen me naked.”

I get that. Altho, I don’t agree because we woman are so dang hard on ourselves as we mature and age. We are. I am anyway.

Easy for me to say to her that I think she’s perfect just the way she is. And she’s outstandingly beautiful.

But I get it. I totally do. Because that’s how I feel right now, but not about my body. No. About me. Me. Andrea. Me. Y’all don’t have to live with me. You don’t have to deal with me daily. I can hear my biggest fans now... Mary, LouAnn, Judy Ti, Beth, Kathy, Pamela, Debbie …  good friends who have heard me complain, seen me cry, heard my joys, saw my strength, seen me vulnerable, with make up, without, in love, alone, 20 lbs over weight, skinny as a twig. These women would come to my side in a heart beat. I know it. And there are more than just those gals. I just happened to mention their names today. They would come to my defense in an instant if they heard me today, if they read this post.

But they haven’t seen me “naked” as my friend says. Naked as in, without my game face on. Day in. Day out.

I saw Iron Lady last evening. Margaret said:

Watch your thoughts, for they become words.Watch your words, for they become actions. Watch your actions, for they become habits. Watch your habits, for they become your character. And watch your character, for it becomes your destiny. 

Perhaps it is my character that is not quite likeable.

I would dismiss all these thoughts. I surely would, however, I have been altered in three areas of my life, three areas in which I found comfort, three areas in which I resided that I no longer live.

And there are streams of others, smaller areas.
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What did I read today? Ah... it was this quote:

The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there. (L.P. Hartley)

Perhaps that is my past. All of it. The job. The marriage. The friends on the west side of town. All important to me at one time. All molded me into who I am today. All played a big, giant role in my life. They are just three of the many areas of my life that have changed (are changing). Many more to come. Soon too.

Scary stuff.

I swear, I really hope I can learn from these experiences. I know what I’d do differently in my marriage. I know what I’ll do differently in my next job (thanks Ron, Angie) .... I’m not entirely sure what I’d do differently with those friendships, except avoid those kinds of people in the future.

Please, don’t say it’s not me. Don’t. Because, I am the common denominator. Somewhere I am screwing up. Maybe it’s as simple as my picker is broken. Maybe I’m wired wrong. Maybe I’ve made some bad choices, been looking at men, jobs, friends with stars in my eyes. I don’t know.

But... something’s gotta give.