Dear Mr. Melissa Blake:
I had a sort of revelation this week, Sweetpea. Well, OK, so technically, it wasn’t so much a lightbulb-over-the-head, earth-shattering revelation as a confirmation about myself. It’s not so much that I’m wound too tightly, though that could be part of it, I suppose. Honestly, I’m quite high-strung.
What’s that? You don’t believe I could ever be like that, Sweetpea? Oh, come on. Be honest. I’m sure wherever we are and whatever we’re doing that you’re not actually saying that at this very moment. After all, we’ve most likely dated for quite some time, so you’ve probably had a chance to get to know my bordering-on-annoying traits. And, of course, I’ve had the chance to make my acquaintance with yours.
I’m not exactly sure how I feel about this trait. There are those traits that are so easy to love and accept – like my sense of humor or the fact that I can be incredibly naive and innocent at times. And there are also those traits that we absolutely hate – like our stubbornness (I get that big one from my dad) or our perpetual tardiness. I suppose I get my high-strung nature from my mother, who always put a lot of pressure on herself to get things done. And before you ask, yes, she also passed on her sense of perfectionism to me too. I just like to have things a certain way, and for some reason am always worried about not doing my best. But we all face those sorts of fears, don’t we? In fact – and I keep telling myself this – we sort of set ourselves up for failure by having such high expectations in life. Don’t get me wrong, Sweetpea, I don’t want you to be a complete slacker, but it’s good to also be gentle with yourself and realize that we’re all our own worst critic.
I’m not sure how my father did it, but he always had a way of calming my mother down when she would get in one of her high-strung moods – we used to joke and ask her how she could get her voice to go so high with her screeching (I know, looking back, it was sort of mean…). He could just magically bring her back down to earth. Every single time. So, I suppose what I’m asking is that this, Sweetpea: Will you do the same for me? Because, let’s face it, I know there are going to be times when I get myself going and get myself all worked up into a tizzy (one of my favorite words, for your reference…). I’m going to need you to bring me back down. And of course I’ll do the same for you. I just hope we don’t get worked up at the same time. Could you imagine what that would look like? But, seriously, at the end of the day, I promise to be gentle with myself and gentle with you if you promise to do the same, Sweetpea. Does that sound like a deal? Until we meet… xoxo