I wanted to believe in him, and perhaps that made all the difference,
when I couldn't believe in me.
He scrawled the words on a yellow post-it note and
there they stood testament for nearly a year.
It took a leap of faith, and I had precious little, no means of springing forward.
He must really love me, I thought,
to be able to see the real me
underneath of all this tired frump,
these frustrated tears,
the angry words I don't really mean.
He must really love me.
He must really love us.
I'm so thankful that there are anchors.
I'm thankful that faith can be measured in mustard seeds.
I'm thankful for those who try too hard.
Those who know that bravery means going forward, even though you are afraid.
It has taken me a long, long time to be happy with myself again.
How lucky I am that I had his eyes to gaze into
while I was searching for my own reflection.
How lucky I am that he thinks I'm worth any wait.
Almost smiling at myself.
Happier every day.
Believing in him
because he believes in me.
The title for this post comes from the Over the Rhine song Happy With Myself.