FROM THE NORM TO THE MARGIN

Pleasing again

When you have been humiliated, belittled and insulted for years it is very complicated to rebuild your self-esteem. I've been working on it for a while, but it's a long way to go. And how do you rebuild your confidence?

I haven't kept any clothes from before, no jewellery, no souvenirs. I allow myself to wear necklines, skirts or dresses, encouraged by my children. I wear make-up. No one makes me feel like a prostitute with their obscene words or gestures. No more groping despite my requests to stop. It's all the easier because I don't look men in the eye if it's not for work. Yes, I am running away from the presence of men. I have been doing this for more than four years now. I find in every man something of the other that puts me in a state of uncontrollable panic. Time passes without me noticing. My shrink tells me that I should at least try to go out for a drink alone with a man. To get back to being a woman. But I doubt I've ever had one. My daughters tell me to go for it. I hide behind the phrase: "I haven't had a chance". I know that's not true. Twice I've had clear offers that I pretended to ignore because they made me feel bad.Still, I feel an emptiness as time goes by and as I watch my children try their luck. I am not brave. If I was blind once, why shouldn't I be blind again. I'm not brave. I'm not sure I want to risk the pain. To love is to risk. My children tell me that to dare to love is to live. They insist; I must do something for myself. It's true that my life suits me because I still have my last one by my side. But she will soon leave home. I'm afraid of shrivelling up, of disconnecting from the world I love.

I have to start working on myself. And then I would like to know what it feels like to share moments of tenderness, to have an equal relationship between two people, two souls.

I remember one day confiding in my sister about my married life during my marriage. We are sitting on a bench under a lime tree. It is the summer of our departure. She wraps her arms around me. We are both in tears. I feel ashamed talking about it. I know she is suffering for me. She asks me how I didn't see that it wasn't like in the romantic movies we love. I look at her surprised. But those are just stories. They don't reflect reality! She replies that it's close. I am speechless. Wow, all those wasted years, all that lost youth, all that time I can never make up for. I'm no uglier than anyone else, no dumber than anyone else. I was even surprised when I happened to meet the interested gaze of a slightly younger man.

Can I still please? 

To be continued...