Back Freckle

I was born with a heart-shaped vascular birthmark on my back.  When I was a kid my parents taught me to believe it was special. I remember not really understanding what they were talking about when they would carry on about my heart shaped birthmark. Of course when I got a little older and figured out how to use two mirrors to see my back, I examined the little red splotch thoroughly. It didn't look like a heart to me but I was never bothered by it.

Nearly every summer some kid at the lake or the pool would, in a panic, tell me my back was bleeding. I never blinked though, before I just explained to them that it was a birthmark.  

I have friends who refer to it (and to me) simply as Back Freckle, which I find funny and a pretty creative description of my red splotch. It's just one of those things that has always , literally, followed me around.  I've known people who rubbed it for luck, men who wanted to write their names on it (because of the heart-shaped thing that I still don't see) and people who have tried to persuade me to have it removed because of cancer risks they think are associated with it.

A few years ago I went to my doctor and asked about having it removed.  His answer was "absolutely not."  He said it was a harmless bundle of blood vessels that just happened to form above the skin and there was no need to remove it. So, I left it there.

For most of my adult life I've tried to keep it covered, but in recent years I've relaxed a bit more. I wear lower backed blouses and tank tops without even thinking about the lowly back freckle.  Maybe I've let down my guard a bit too much though, because I think I crossed a boundary of some sort the other day when I asked a close friend to put lotion on my back. 

Not everyone is cool with ol' back freckle. In fact it apparently grosses some folks out pretty bad, which is something I never really considered.  But isn't it just like life to let you live for so many years without even realizing that the rest of the world is disgusted by some small physical flaw you have that you've never even thought twice about?

Point is, now I know that my birthmark is indeed, gross.  And that makes me wonder what else there is about me that makes other people want to lose their lunch.  My skin? My hair? My squishy body? For sure the tube in my belly, right? And maybe my ugly teeth...

The worst things about me I think are hidden away, but maybe they're more obvious than I think, and maybe I expect too much when I believe that anyone else could ever accept and embrace me for who I am.  Especially when it's very likely that I'm not even close to being the okay kind of person I think I am.

Change

Change sucks.  Not to be Ms. Negativity or anything, I'm just admitting that change isn't easy and that when I get myself into difficult situations that involve strenuous effort to adapt, I often want to shut down.  Seriously, I'm like a generator that's running out of gas. I feel a cough and a sputter coming on, and pretty soon I'm going to be empty.  Out of fuel. Shut down completely. 

Change is a whole lot tougher when, for all the effort you're giving it, someone keeps reminding you of just how inadequate and sucky you really are at life.  It isn't as if I think I'm good at life in the first place. I know I'm not and there aren't enough "hacks" out there to save me.  I make stupid decisions. I'm a poor judge of character. I trust people I shouldn't trust and I put up with way more bullshit from bullshitters than anyone should ever tolerate. I honestly hope that my hopefulness will someday pay off, but let's be real.  I'm just kidding myself.

So, I'm working on this adjustment thing. Adjusting to living in someone else's house with their rules and pet peeves (which are endless) and trying my best to he gracious and tiptoe around so as not to disrupt the stays quo.  The last thing would ever want to do is make someone I love miserable, but that seems to be exactly what I'm doing. Just by existing, being a mom, having a kid who acts like a kid...and even though I want to make this adjustment and make the most if my situation, I fear I am in a no-win scenario. No matter how much I change and adapt, I'm never going to be adequate. 

A lot of folks love me just the way I am, so I know I can't be as awful as I often feel lately.  Still, it's tough to not internalize the sarcasm and constant criticism that I hear daily. I know the issues aren't all mine, but I'm all too willing to take them on. Another way that I'm bad at life, I suppose.

All I seem to be able to hear are echoes from the past.  Voices of men who tell me I'm not sexy enough. I'm not smart enough.  I'm not educated enough, not disciplined enough, not seductive, not pretty, not healthy enough...it's as if my effort to adapt and overcome is worthless. Is there no merit in simply refusing to give up?  

I mean really, who else do I know who would take on a hike in the dark with a still-healing broken leg, a belly full of dialysate (fluid, a liter to be exact) an 8 year old and a dog. All of this with a healthy as a horse former marine who walks like he's going to put out a fire everywhere he goes.  Is it for nothing that I'm determined enough to keep putting one foot in front of another and push my body past it's comfort zone?  Does that not say to anyone that I'm not a quitter? 

Would it even matter if I were a quitter? 

I just don't know anymore, and like I said, I'm running out of energy. I'm not sure how much longer I can even give a damn, when giving a damn seems to not matter anyway.  You can care all you want, try as hard as you can, you can even improve yourself, but you can't make someone accept you for who you are. And who you are, it turns out, is really the only thing that counts when it comes to life.  So maybe the only thing I can do is find the people who are able to accept me and love me despite my foibles and cling to those people for the rest of my days.  It's probably the only way I'll ever feel like I'm enough.