I am not beautiful. Or desirable.
I don’t have long flowing hair.
I have fat.
I have no light in my eyes.
I have grey creeping in.
I have two children I am raising as a single mom.
I cry. A lot.
I sleep. Too much.
I forget things.
I get confused.
I am opinionated.
I am strong willed.
I like to drink.
I like to debate.
I have high expectations.
I demand to be treated equally and fairly.
I demand to be wanted and desired.
I am not sexy.
I am not brilliant.
I am not perfect.
I am not many things.
And yet Jim loved me unconditionally. He thought I was the perfect woman to be the mother of his children. He wanted to grow old with me. He wanted to watch sunsets and visit new places and cherish family time together.
Now I recognize all of my weaknesses.
Not because I am worried about someone else wanting me but because only now am I able to fully comprehend the extent of how lucky I was to have a wonderful man like Jim who accepted me and desired me just as I am.
I was good.
I was fine.
I felt supported and cherished.
I had his back and he had mine.
I was able to be me.
I was able to have do-overs.
I was able to fail and fall and he helped me back up.
I was loved. Unconditionally.
I didn’t have to worry about changing or being anything other than who I was.
And that worked.
For us. It worked.
And I am no longer that woman. I am no longer compliant. Or beautiful. Or sexy. Or desirable. Or witty. Or capable.
I am hardened. And tired. And bitter.
There is no longer a shimmer of wonder in my eyes.
I have seen the light and it has left me acrimonious.
It has left me cold. And indifferent.
Who am I to care any longer? Jim is gone and why should I care if I am found interesting?
I have always known I am not. But Jim made me so.
And now I must face the ultimate truth of the original premise which he transformed the moment we met.
He altered my persona.
In these days after his loss, I must accept the original me as me, the person I have become over the years, and recognize the need for new growth, new change and new alteration of the original species.
So far it has eluded my view and my capabilities.
I don’t know if I will ever live up to the person Jim always thought I was.
Or the person he made me feel I was.
Am I still?