Did I Mention I Need an Intervention?

Thank goodness there are people who know me better than I know myself.

As I stand exposed, I feel small, watching a circle of people surround me. As they prepare to do an intervention, they hold a mirror to reflect the goodness in me. They see much kindness, but am I a case of mistaken identity? Am I as kind and generous as these Mediumites believe me to be? Despite their golden image, I think their perception is wrong.

A year ago, I would have described myself as a gentle soul—someone who aligned my behaviours with doing right by others. I held my integrity in high regard. So if you spoke ill of me, I felt deeply hurt.

I liked myself for these qualities and was comfortable because I felt complete control. How I projected myself and related to others was within my power. I lived my life how I saw fit without too much outside scrutiny.

Then, I became an official writer. And I wasn’t just any writer. I was a personal essayist who bared her soul and wore her heart on her sleeve. I shared emotional aspects of my life, hoping it would inspire others who felt the same way.

I didn’t know what I was doing. All I knew was I wanted to create. Then, somewhere along the way, I found my place among the smaller publications.

I liked the connection and the intimacy I found through the selflessness of the readers, authors, and publishers. The more I looked, the more significant number of inspiring pubs I found.

I didn’t know so many kind people existed in this world. The evening news certainly doesn’t reflect it, but generous people have found a place to call home in this small corner of the universe.

I’ve tried to run from this circle of creative angels, but they’ve joined arms, and like a game of red rover, there’s no chance of escape.

These men and women have a natural knack for sharing goodwill and optimism. Unfortunately, my capacity doesn’t seem this great. As they’ve accepted me into their ring of compassion, I feel like an imposter. I worry they may think I’m nicer than I am.

As I stand vulnerable and fraught to fill shoes that may not fit, I wonder what if I’m incapable of living in a place of gratitude, peace, and love for all humanity? What if my thoughts are darker than my writing comrades? Will anyone still embrace me? Will I still keep my voice?

And then it hit me.

These angels are not pressuring me to be someone I’m not. On the contrary, they are extolling the virtues they’ve already seen in me. They are holding me in high esteem because they’ve seen my true beauty — the splendour I try to hide and often forget.

These beautiful friends have witnessed my kindness and selflessness and have decided I’m worthy. They’ve joined forces to hold this vision of me for as long a time as it takes for me to hold the vision for myself.

I am eternally grateful.

These Mediumites see me for who I am and the person I strive to be. They are a step ahead, waiting for me to jump on the self-acceptance train. I may have lost control of where I’m going, but I haven’t derailed. I am still the compassionate and optimistic writer my fellow readers and writers know me to be.

So today, as I stand here before all of you, I declare I’ve looked in your mirror, and finally, I like what I see.

Thank you, readers, writers, and publishers who believe in me and recognize the light that shines within me. Sometimes I lose my way and go down dark roads, but I’m never entirely lost.

Maybe I needed the intervention because seeing myself through your loving eyes has opened my eyes too.

I appreciate your faith in me.

Now please gather around. I’m ready for a virtual hug.

Thank you, Trista Signe Ainsworth, for your belief in me and for offering me a place to thank everyone who gets me and sees me. It’s such a gift.