Here's to the Troll Ladies!
Working on a Realistic Sense of Self
I’ve done my best to put my worst foot forward.
My friend Tori, who is in my writers’ group and hears about 85% of everything that I write, once quipped, “I know you will want to cut that one from the memoir because you didn’t do anything to deserve what happened.”
It’s true, I guess. I wrote about the time I almost stabbed my bestie, about the times I tried socially strategic dating, the times I lied and played games with others’ emotions only to have it all blow up in my face. That’s all very much on brand.
I had a period where I only wore ugly dresses and if anyone dared to describe me as “cute” they would get a massive tantrum as thanks for the compliment. People always commented on my beautiful hair so I chopped it all off and wore a super short pixie for the better part of 25 years. Part of that behavior can be explained by my rocky adolescence. Another part could be explained by an expectation that, as a redhead, I should be “fiery” and temperamental. Some people believe it is due to low self esteem, bullying, and the pressures of growing up female in America— your basic Formative Trauma Starter Pack. But, I don’t buy it, not even with someone else’s dollar.
I’ll tell you exactly what it is; Self-Protection. I’ve learned that if all people see about you is goodness and light, beauty and talent, then you will always be stuck wondering if people will love you when you inevitably disappoint them. There’s a price to pay to be there for the good stuff and I want to filter out anyone who is not here for the whole ride.
I want you to see me misshapen, marred by warts and scars and still want to sit next to me. I want you to see me drooling, snarling and barking and still want to hold me close. I want you to know my darkest thoughts and still feel I am worth the effort.
I’ve been through transactional love and I want none of it. I don’t want love that comes with a ledger or a step ladder. I’m not fishing for compliments, either. The ultimate compliment is friendship. To call, to write, to consider and accept is the deepest expression of love I could ever want.
The movies feed us a stock character— the woman who is beautiful and amazing but has no idea how beautiful and amazing she is! All she needs is the right partner to sing her the right song, buy her the right diamond, and kiss her so perfectly that she may catch a glimpse of her own brilliance. A goddess who has fallen from the heavens!
Blah blah blah.
All hail the Troll Ladies who have walked away from all that nonsense to embrace the messy value of being a whole person who refuses transactional temptations, likes what they like, does what they do, and lives a life that is in concert with those around them.
Not saying I am there yet. But gathering a crew that has a realistic view of who I am is a pretty good start.
