diamonds

How I got to where I am is not terribly important.  People seem to be fascinated with the particulars – the “hows” the “why’s” the perceived seediness of it all.  For a very long time it was humiliating, degrading, like I had been lowered a few notched on the social caste system, and would never garner any respect or self worth again.

But now I am beginning to see the truth.

People are interested – fascinated – they are hungry to hear the story, because believe it or not – they are more like me than they care to admit.  It is everyone’s dirty little secret – and while nobody is talking – boy do they like to listen.

Which is making me think.

Why does it happen?

I know why it happened for me. And I suspect, that again – I am not alone.

I have blamed myself for quite some time.  “If I had been prettier -  smarter -  less of a mother and more of a wife. If I had made better dinners, not hassled him about fixing the bathtub” maybe he would have seen the good in me. If I had only been better – at anything  – at everything – maybe it would have been ok.

I know it is not true – that it can’t be true.  Nothing would have made it ok.

Then why do I still feel like it is all my fault?

I have flaws.  Too many to count – quirks and idiosyncrasies that would drive anyone up the wall. I know that is true of me. I don’t like it it – but it is true.

What I am slowly coming to realize – is that we all have them.

When I was little, I would visit my granddad’s jewelry shop. He would let me look at diamonds through his scope, and help me find all of the little flaws – the tiny pinpricks of imperfection.  But no matter how many cracks, and spots and flecks we found – the product was always the same – a dazzling piece of near-perfection, dropped into a beautiful setting. It was always a diamond – always beautiful.

But I cannot see the diamond in myself.

I see the flaws, the spots – the cracks and gullies. And when someone else points them out,I became less precious, less of a jewel – I lose my worth.  I am just a rock. Not a rare and beautiful thing – just a rock, like any other. And no matter how beautiful the setting is, there is no way that a stone with so many flaws can be brilliant or beautiful. I cannot see the perfection in me – and don’t know if anyone else can either.

The closest I ever got to being a diamond was once upon a time at a lake in the woods – and that is all I will say about that here.

November 11, 2010. Uncategorized.