I don’t know how to begin this. I did have an opening that was pretty funny and clever, but honestly, I don’t feel like being funny right now. I feel like being real. Something that is lacking in today’s world a lot. With all the pressure to be on trend, be good at TikTok or whatever social media is poppin’ at the moment, and be more than what we are, I would like to be who I am and say I don’t know how to say what I want to. So, I’m going to type and see if something good comes of it.
For a while I was avoiding the Netflix show Bridgerton, because while I do find myself enjoying those types of period dramas, it looked like it was too bubblegum for me. Too pastel. I base my standard of enjoyment on the 2005 Pride and Prejudice with Kiera Knightley, if that tells you anything about me. I judged myself hardcore for watching all of the first season in a night (I had insomnia, might as well, right?). But then I watched it again because I was captivated by Rege-Jean Page’s performance as the Duke of Hastings. Not because he’s visually stunning (well, yes, that) but because his acting was remarkable. The way he conveyed subtlety is something I don’t think can ever be taught in an acting class, and each time it took my breath away. I truly believed he loved Daphne.
I did not have the same childhood Simon did, but I do know the weight of pressure, and the weight of personal promises. I won’t go into it too far because I don’t want to spoil anything, but there’s a scene that kind of stuck me right in the middle of my biggest insecurity. I didn’t even know it existed until I saw it so plainly on his face. After a confusing moment with Daphne where she says some pretty intense and rather hurtful things, Simon reaches out to her and says:
“You said I was enough!”
The desperation and pleading in his face, the absolute betrayal of what he thought was love was like a lightning bolt from my head to my toes. I wanted to throw up when I realized. I actually had a small breakdown because it hit me so hard, and I was so embarrassed that it was such a “bubblegum” show that caused me to have this incredibly powerful realization about myself.
I’ve always said my biggest fear is losing my family. And it’s still pretty high up there on the list, along with snakes and spiders, but in terms of metaphysical fear, I am afraid of not being good enough at love to keep it if I have it. When I have feelings for someone, and I mean real feelings with intent (not my ridiculous attraction to Henry Cavill), I tend to become obsessive about it. I throw myself into being the best me I can be and watch the other person to make sure I’m doing what they like and I either tone it down or raise the level depending. It’s not the same as changing myself, because I’m still me, just reducing or elevating the qualities the person of my affection seems to approve of, or disapprove. I never realized it was a fear of losing them.
But there seems to be a bit in all of us, a bit that hides behind the curtains of jokes and trending videos. The part we reach for when we’re drunk with self-pity–for good reason because here we are on a Saturday night talking to the internet. Life is so full, and yet so empty all the same.
I don’t define myself by a relationship. But should the day come, I want to be exactly what someone needs. As Simon puts it, “From the mornings you ease, to the evenings you quiet, to the dreams you inhabit, my thoughts of you never end.” I’m not interested in being someone’s everything, which might seem like a contradiction to what I’ve said above, but hear me out. I’ve been very good at being alone for a very long time, and I’d need time to be away, but I want to be home for someone. I want to be the smile that catches someone off guard. The reason for inappropriate laughter. The distraction in a work meeting because of an intense conversation the night before about something in a book we’ve both read.
I can be the most compassionate, the brightest, creative, kind, generous, whatever positive label you want to put on me, but if I do not feel it in my bones, I will never agree that I am worth it. I never want to see doubt in another person’s face, a person I’ve trusted to love me. I think that would shatter me. It’s a lot to take in, and this has been very personal. Some might wonder why I’m being so open and personal on the internet where everything is forever, but it’s because feeling like this is not new. And it is not limited to me. We should be able to talk about our deepest insecurities and not feel judged for them.
So, where does that leave us for today? I don’t know. I don’t know why I chose the title of this piece to be what it is, but the phrase stuck with me, so I’m keeping it. I guess my final thought would be don’t get so caught up in thinking you’re the worst when really you could be the best to someone. Hiding behind our self-doubt and loathing only sharpens that knife of self-betrayal, and one day will leave us bitter and empty. The emptiness I feel now is nothing to the emptiness I know exists within bitterness, and I do my best to stay above that.
This isn’t a happy blog post, and I won’t apologize for it. If you do have someone you love, I wish you joy and contentment in your love. I wish for you to soar with each other and be the brightness the other needs in the weird, wild world we have these days.
Keep smiling. Keep loving. You are, as always, enough.
Until next time, friends.
salisbury.fake 