love yourself

My Father

Posted on by cdjcollings

It is probably not a good idea to anticipate approval from other people.

They will resent you for this.

Harsh but true, they may even have contempt for you.

If it exists at all, your value is a self-determination. If people are drawn to you, they have the assumption that you are self-assured, just as they are self-assured. Otherwise, with the feeling that they may not be able to trust their instincts, they will loathe having taken notice of you.

If you are a mature adult, why would you look toward others to inform you of your value?

Respect that this is self-work and part of what people notice about you, especially when it is missing.

I’m writing this after finding a note to myself written a long time ago about a friend, a beautiful woman. She was never pleased with herself, no matter what she wore or how she styled her hair. I didn’t understand the problem until I noticed her interaction with a man that she wanted to know.

We were out together with another girlfriend. There was an attractive man walking toward where we were sitting. It was clear that he was focused on her. Though she already had his attention, she proceeded with swinging her hair from side to side, and sitting provocatively, more animated, etc.. She was embarrassing and so obvious that I looked toward the guy to see his response to her. He actually looked disappointed as his wide smile softened by the time he reached us. He probably expected a different response, perhaps just a little more reserved. He was polite and generous, ordering drinks all around. He stayed long enough to finish his drink and make a graceful exit back to his friends.

She was one of my best friends. And I remember that she had a terrible relationship with her father. He was never pleased with anything that she did. He was cold and critical.

Finding and reading this note to myself from so long ago, I think of how my dad was with me. He has been gone for a long time now. Though I have never given any thought about our relationship in comparison to my friend’s with her father, I think of it now.

May dad was a quiet man, so it is easy to remember the things that he said, and the consistent and reliable support that he was for me. Being the last of six children, it seems to me now that my father was aware of how I could get lost in the crowd of our family. He let me know that he could see me. One of my favorite memories is that at the end of the week on Friday evenings, so that I wouldn’t miss his arrival, I colored in my coloring book on the living room floor, waiting for him to return home from work. He’d walk in and without stopping or saying a word, he’d toss a Clark bar onto my coloring book. This was the rare thing as there were no extras in our family of 9.

My father was a busy and hard-working man with a lot of responsibilities to our family. And he also made time to let me know that noticed me. Just between the two of us, that Clark bar was a powerful gesture. It is an amazing thing that thinking about those times, I can still feel how I felt then, when I was 6 years old. My father always reminded me of how I could become whatever I could imagine. He said that often.

I don’t think my girlfriend got that message about herself.

My wish is that those of us who feel empty or unseen by the world could realize that we are amazing, every one of us is an amazing human being.

Parents provide this awareness through their love for us, but sometimes they themselves are also injured in the same way, by their parents. They don’t know how even if they want to be a better parent for their children. Unfortunately, feeling inadequate to give what the child is so needing, a parent’s reaction to this may be criticism and ridicule, for what they didn’t realize was missing in themselves. It is a desperate and harmful reaction for sure. Both the child and the parent are at a loss for understanding and both experience pain and longing.

But the truth is that we are made in His image, in the image of God, The Creator. If we believe this, then we can heal ourselves and we can forgive others. With this knowing, we can repair our hearts and love ourselves and those that have hurt us.

So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.

Genesis 1:27

Everyone of us is beautiful and amazing, every one.

Remember this about yourself.

Love,

Char

george…

Posted on by cdjcollings

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“Although your mind’s opaque, try thinking more if just for your own sake.”

 

Truthfully

Posted on by cdjcollings

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Someone said:

There exists only two emotions…

                                                              love

and everything else.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Years had gone by without a single thought of the time in 1957 when I spent the summer with my grandparents on their farm in Virginia.  Then, in the midst of a prolonged illness, among all of the things my mind was sorting through, this forgotten experience drifted in.  Totally unprovoked and effortlessly revealing, I felt the need to write everything that I could remember, just as it presented itself to me.

And as I wrote, I became more and more immersed within the warmth and comfort of that time with my grandparents, so precious and dear to me now, as I realize after all, how much meaning it brought to my life.

This glimpse into their world was written with love and a deep and ever-growing appreciation for my family, for my heritage.  It might well have been entitled , “The Gift”.

                                                                        Truth is Beauty is Love

Two Little Girls by Charon Diane

http://booklocker.com/books/4718.html

https://barnesandnoble.com/w/two-little-girls-charon-                                              diane/1022157163?ean=9781609101374

https://www.amazon.com/Two-Little-Girls-Charon-Diane/dp/1609101375

 

* An excerpt from my book:

Two Little Girls

Chapter 1

As far as I was concerned, summer began with the day my father installed the screens in the windows. Early that morning, Mother would have taken the summer sheers from storage to the clothesline in our backyard. By the afternoon, she swooped up the freshened bundle and brought them back indoors to hang on the rods at the tops of the windows. When the transformation was complete, I’d run from room to room to see the curtains flying on the breeze that raced in through the windows of our big old house. Like a magical invitation to adventures possible only with summer, when one day melted into the next and no one asked about the time, I felt that I could fly too and that anything could happen.

There were 5 children in my family. My brother Lionel was the oldest; my sister Cecilia was next, followed by my sister Rose, then my brother Isaac, and me. We spent summertime totally absorbed in keeping pace with our friends as was our Mother in keeping up with us. She mended our scraped knees, our bruised egos, and the holes in my brothers’ dungarees. I remember lemonade and tuna sandwiches, cotton sun dresses and hair ribbons; the pennies I collected for the corner candy store, and my ankle socks that never stayed up. Summers seemed much longer then when hopscotch and jump rope, hide-and-seek and tag, dress-up and make-believe, with my bicycle, my dolls and friends filled the days until supper time. When August finally came around, among the five of us someone would be chosen to vacation with our grandparents in the country. It was in the year 1957 that I was to spend my first summer there.

I’d thought so often about my first trip to the farm. But like the landing of a cascading boulder, my mother’s cheerful delivery of this summer’s plan completely shattered my vision of it. Leaving little room for the way that reality alters things but similar to most events concerning “the children”, I was quite certain of my unvarying reverie. It was always the same.  My brothers and sisters are running through a country field with me, very happily and as usual, following close behind. But everything had been arranged and I alone would spend two weeks on the farm that year.

My family had gathered in the living room when Mother made the announcement. But my frustrating lack of enthusiasm was like a call to dinner in emptying the room of everyone and I found myself alone, save for the dog. While I struggled with the concept of being on my own, Spiky jumped onto the couch next to me. Placing his head upon my foot he kept a concerned and watchful eye over my disposition until we both fell asleep.

Later that day, I listened to Dad’s recollections of farm life adventures while Mother prepared supper. As she filled in with the finer points and particulars she’d taken note of my mixed feelings with her knowing smile that always took the sharp edges off of things. “Don’t forget that your cousin Joanna is just about your age and lives close to Grandpa‘s”, she nearly whispered. Then I thought of the pocket inside the little green suitcase as the place where my Jacks would find a perfect fit.

                                          ~~~~~~~ Truth is Beauty is Love ~~~~~~