April Love - Day Three: Dear Feet

Dear Feet

You like so much of the rest of my body have been very much neglected for most of my life. I have this theory that people are either 'mind' or 'body' people in that they either live mainly in their heads (myself included) or they are very much present and aware of their bodies. I think the reason why I tend to not think too much about my body is because it has caused me more problems than I would like. That however is a different matter altogether and this letter is in fact intended for you dear feet so back to the topic at hand.

Thank you dear feet for always doing your job. Despite the fact that you are long compared to the rest of my body and incredibly narrow and have been 'problematic' that you have very rarely caused me pain. I remember as a child going to the shoe shop and being told when having my feet measured that, "You must have been last in the queue when they gave out feet." I remember the embarrassment and shame and wondering why my feet had to be flat. I wondered why I would never be allowed to do ballet or be able to run. Looking back now, I realise that was the first in a series of "CAN'TS". If only I had had the self esteem to not listen to insensitive comments made by adults. But I was just a child and he being the 'expert' made a strong negative impression. Imagine if that man had instead said to me, "Wow, those long feet were made for only the finest Italian shoes", would it have made a difference, I wonder?

We've walked a long road dear feet from the tip of Table Mountain in South Africa, to the green fields in Ireland, to the dusty back roads of Mexico and pebbled beaches of England. You've danced with me all night until the sun came up even when my legs couldn't go any more, we let the music move us. You've indulged me in my high heeled dreams when I bought ridiculously beautiful yet impractical grey shoes that of course I had to take off as soon as I could. I've occasionally adorned my toenails in sparkly nail polish and can't recall nearly enough foot rubs. I even once went to get my feet 'read' and was told those long toes represent an incredible amount of creativity.

Oh feet, I'm excited about the places we still will get to explore together and that one day I can adorn you in those fine Italian shoes. Thank you for always keeping me grounded and getting me where I need to go. I'm looking forward to the many journeys we have yet to walk, climb and dance together.

                                                My Feet: Image by Dr Benway

Here we go again...

                             

                                                   

                                                      Image Found on weheartit.com

 I've had such a strange week. I've had a lot of negativity come my way via Facebook, email and messages. One from a friend, one from someone I hardly know and one from an acquaintance. The comments made were rude, egotistical and coming from a place of bitterness. Part of me thinks I'm being too sensitive, that I should just toughen up. After all, this isn't anything new to me. I've been on this earth long enough to have had decades of rejection, oh the drama of it all! I started my day driving to a meeting while crying because of rejection. You see, I have a long history with people excluding me socially. It started when I was a child and to be honest, seems to be a recurring theme in my life. I'm the perpetual outsider and part of me has made peace with that. The only problem is, is that when I do make the effort to put myself out there and make new friends ( which doesn't happen often) if I get rejected, I take it hard. I get taken back emotionally to that place of  playground bullies and tears cried in the bathroom at break time. My adult mind tells me to shut down. To put my walls up. To cover this sensitive heart of mine up with anger. Pfffft! I don't need them anyway! Lucky me! One less person to worry about! And yet, I still found myself crying.

Why the tears? I was woken this morning with a message on my phone (charming!) from someone telling me that they no longer wanted to be my friend. Apparently our friendship values don't match. Granted this person is going through a big change in her life, maybe it's hormonal. Maybe it's projection. Most of the time when someone is that cut throat, it usually is. So there I am analysing the message over and over again. It was a polite Fuck You with a smile. A kiss at the end and wishing me well for my future. I don't get it. This kind of thing does my head in. Words are SO important to me. WHY WOULD YOU BE SO CRUEL AND KIND AT THE SAME TIME?!!! Apologies for the caps lock. Ahem. I haven't known this person that long - less than a year to be exact. They did make an impact on my life though. I think all of my friends do, otherwise why bother having the friendship? I take my friendships seriously - too seriously? Probably. I'm the wear-my-bleeding-heart-on-my-sleeve-oh-I'm-sorry-was-I-dripping-bloody-intense-emotion-all-over-you? friend. I'm the you-can-call-me-any-time-of-the-day-or-night-and-I-will-be-there-friend. I'm the friend who sat with you when you got locked out of your flat one night in the cold. I'm the friend who just held you for hours while you cried after your mother died. I'm the friend who came to your grandmother's funeral having never met her but knew you needed me there for support. I'm the friend who drove you home when you were too drunk, you vomited all over my car and I said nothing. I'm that friend. I'm also apparently an emotional punching bag. Having a bad day/week/life? Send it in my direction in a passive aggressive message. I won't even retaliate. I'll probably even forgive you, given half a chance.
Hopeless romantic? Not quite. I have a love/hate thing going on with humanity. Hate to love you, you incredible, terrible, fascinating,cruel,wonderful,dangerous,horrible, lovely humans.

I could have done without out that rejection this morning. Or maybe it was meant to be. Maybe one day, with hindsight, I'll think of what happened and it'll all make sense. Maybe. Either that, or I'll find myself in tears again.