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Je m’aime.

I love that little things make me happy: a chocolate chip cookie, a sweet glass of wine, a cloudy glass of unfiltered sake, a good book, paintings, Scrabble, insects, scented candles, ten minutes in the steam room, crispy bacon, running with my iPod, typing on an actual typewriter.

I love me because I’m sensitive to a fault. I cry at weddings. I’ll drop everything to be at your side. And even if you don’t ask, I’ll be thinking of ya. I say sorry when I’m wrong. I write meaningful greeting cards. I adore my friends, love my family, and love my ex-boyfriends, too.

This cursed holiday. Five years of being single. I hate this holiday, but I love what it stands for. Love in all its different forms.

My parents sent me a beautiful card that made my day.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to Our Daughter…

From the one
who sang you lullabies
And gave you tender hugs…

From the one
who gave you horsey rides
And stomped on yucky bugs…

From the one
who took you shopping…

From the one
who fixed your toys…

who protected you
from heartaches…

who protected you
from boys!

From the one
who often worried…

And who sometimes
worries still…

From the TWO who
always loved you!

(And of course,
we always will!)”

A day to commemorate love. Why not? Self-love, too. Where would we be if we didn’t love ourselves first.

I love me for trying. For getting help and starting my six week therapy session today, Valentine’s Day. To keep pushing, even though it’s uncomfortable, and talk about my feelings. For not giving up, thinking it’s hopeless.

It’s like any other day. Happy, beautiful, promising day.

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02.14.07

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Comments

  1. Mrs. J

    February 15, 2007 at 5:20 am

    Cathy,
    I wish you love every day!
    Cheryl

    Reply
  2. Gordon

    February 15, 2007 at 5:43 am

    I’m thinking of that Sex in the City episode (oh, I am so gonna have my “guy card” pulled) where Carrie is forced to remove her shoes to gain entry to a party where she has been invited specifically because access is conditioned on bringing a gift. On her way out she finds that her expensive shoes have been stolen and that the hostess has no compassion for her single acquaintance–no longer friend–who puts the return of a possession at such a high importance. In the end it is about those of who roam the World outside of the confines of coupledom having value and being loved without regard to our condition. With that sentiment in mind, not to mention a day late, here’s hoping your Valentine’s Day was much more than just another day ending in ‘why’. I have no idea how that sounds, it’s supposed to be both smile inducing and warm but…

    Reply

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Welcome to my site, derived from an advice column I wrote while getting my MBA. I live in the San Francisco Bay Area. I give helpful, opinionated advice based on my own experience and from the expertise of my extensive network. For more, click here.

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