Thursday, February 9, 2012

My Number 1 Fans

I think everyone needs somebody(s) in their life who truly believes in them.  No matter how silly the idea or mission.  Some one to encourage and cheer you on.  Some one to hear you out and really listen to you.  Some one who you feel really values your thoughts.  Some one who supplies some energy into your sails.  Do you know what I mean?  I hope you do, because that means that you have had that somebody(s) in your life.

Once again, I will tell you how lucky I am.  Not only have I one person, but two people in my life like that.  They have been there my entire life.  Maybe you know them?  My parents.  Donnie Baseball and Denise.

I think there is a reason they are my parents.  I was painfully shy as a child.  I mean, really and honestly painfully shy.  Like look at me and I cry shy.  I was scared of men, in general.  I was scared of people who were really tall or had a really deep voice.  I was afraid of strangers, teachers and older kids.  I would worry incessantly about natural disasters- tornadoes, lightning, high-speed winds.  I lived in fear of my worse nightmare coming true, that I would be told my parents had died.  I know, I sound like a really neurotic kid.  I probably looked pretty normal from the outside, I was good at covering for my insecurities and keeping them hidden.  But in my head, it was a storm.

My parents were not coddlers and thank God because I really would have turned out differently.  They believed in independence, earning your keep and working hard (and playing hard).  The rule was that whatever I wanted- a prom dress, a car, to go to college- I had to pay half of the cost.  And I did (still am on the college part).  I was taught to help myself, not to depend on others to make things happen for me.  "Find a solution."  And I was encouraged that I could do anything I dreamed.  If I didn't know how to do something, I would learn.  And if I failed, I would learn and I would live through it (even if I felt I would surely die from embarrassment or humiliation).

Many other people might have seen my insecurities and fears as a weakness, but not them.  They thought of them as endearing qualities and quirks that made me Tara.  They had a sense of humor about me but never mocked me or made me feel self conscious about it.

Although it took me well over a quarter century to learn all the lessons they were trying to teach me, overcome my incredible shyness and develop a healthy self confidence, it happened.  And I am forever grateful to them.  For their patience, their love, their respect and their confidence in me.

Now that I have my own child, I understand.  I understand how sincere they are in their belief in me and my abilities.  How they could possibly love their little worry wart.  How they could be amused by my quirks and not annoyed.  How they could want so much for me but would not just hand it over anytime I asked.

So thanks Mom and Dad.  You two will be the first I will call with any future ideas to round up some carcasses, boil them and spray paint them.

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