Letting Go

I was always the real life, original, the cliched but true ugly duckling. The girl that would hang out with, no...hang on desperately to a group of prettier, more popular, funnier girls. You know? Like what you see in the movies. The slightly overweight, bespectacled girl with hair that has a mind of its own, that refuses any attempt at control. The girl in 'hand me downs', or sensible shoes and clothes rather than the most up to date and cool fashions because her Mum and Dad couldn't afford, or wouldn't pay for, clothes that she would soon grow out of. The girl that more than anything in the world wanted to fit in, to be pretty and beautiful and popular, but most of all... liked.

I thought that to be liked meant being all of those things, which meant being like them, the girls that, who it turns out, only pretended to be friends with me because I was the one that made them feel good about themselves. Sometimes I wonder how different life would have been if I had had that knowledge then, but then I suppose i wouldn't be the person that I am now.

Oh what I wouldn't have given back then to have had poker-straight, long, blonde hair. Hair that you could style any way in which you chose and still look fabulous, as though you had just walked out of the hairdressers. Hair that at the merest sight of a drop of moisture didn't turn into a frizzy, tangled mess that resembled one of those tacky, nylon, curly wigs that clowns wear. To have a high, swept back ponytail that swung and bounced from side to side, every hair falling back into place each time it swished backwards and forwards, was the very height of my ambitions. Instead I despaired at the wavy, thick, uncontrollable mop that I had (in my opinion) the misfortune to inherit. I had wept with frustration about it, begged and pleaded with my Mum to do something, ANYTHING, to fix it, to fix me.

And of course I wore glasses too and, you know, I was quite clever, so never in a million years did I have the slightest chance of fitting in, of being one of the cool kids. I should have been a geek, hung around with all the other unfortunate, unpopular, intelligent children (boys predominantly), who were destined to face years of teasing, bullying, mickey-taking, ostracising. But it wasn't what I wanted. I never did feel like a geek...I wanted to belong. I liked the same sorts of things as the other girls. I loved music and dancing, films, playing netball and...boys. But it was never enough. I was never enough. And it was what I craved more than anything.

I desperately wanted to be liked, to be popular, to be pretty, but the rejection and the bullying of the girls who I mistakenly believed were my friends destroyed me ever so slowly, but surely, until there was nothing left. No self-esteem, confidence or love for myself. And these feelings, they didn't go. Instead they remained within me, became the most important part of me. Corrosive, destructive, soul-destroying, feelings of being worthless, lonely, unpopular and unlikable.

Ten years later and it isn't even about my appearance any longer. I am at peace with myself in that respect, having 'grown into' my face and realising that it isn't the most important part of me. No, all the damage is internal, deep within me and destroying me from the inside. Such dark emotions that are all consuming, and that lead me to believe that I have no future in this world. I have made real friends by now, friends that somehow see the real me, who tell me I am fabulous, make me feel fabulous even when I don't believe it myself. Friends who encourage me to live a little, to enjoy myself.

Bumping, literally, into you at the bar of the best nightclub in town, happened only because of the wonderful friends that I have, and it has transpired that it was the best accident that I could ever have hoped to have. How could I have possibly known that spilling my glass of Pinot Grigio all down the front of your bright orange checked, Ben Sherman, button down shirt would result in what would become my new beginning. Neither of us could have known then that you would have the most extraordinary, wonderful, unexpected effect on my deeply unhappy soul.

You see right past my slightly wonky outer layers, visibly drink in my wobbly bits, declaring that it is just more of me to love, and instead you see me...just me. When I look into your blue grey eyes I feel safe and at home; when their colour darkens and intensifies with lust and want I feel sexy and desired; and when they soften and glisten with adoration I feel loved.

You have loved me and supported me; cared for me and been there for me when I have been ill, when I have wanted life to end and been in the darkest places imaginable, when I have hated myself. You have believed in me, you DO believe in me, and you truly see an inner beauty that I have never thought I had. In your eyes I am beautiful inside and out, and because you believe it I try to also. When our eyes meet I see the person I want to be forever.

That is why today I let go of the past, of all those negative, destructive memories that have made life seem impossible. Letting go...the courage this has taken; the length of time to reach this point; you my love have saved me, and I will spend every day of the rest of our lives together thanking you with all of my heart.

So here goes. The first day of the rest of my life, my life with you. Together...always.