Love Changes Everything.

Tonight Sky told me someone gave him props for dating me, and that he's a lucky guy for getting the funniest girl in the singles' ward.  I have to admit that made me laugh a little, and furthermore, blush to four shades of red.  I don't usually hear compliments said about me behind my back, and I have to admit it was nice to hear.

What people don't realize is that I started being funny when I was about 11 because I thought I was ugly, and I thought if I couldn't be pretty, I was going to be funny so that people would like me.  Maybe part of me still feels that way, because now I can't really break the habit, and frankly it's easier to laugh than it is to actually have a serious moment.  In fact, if I could, I would make a joke about every sad, bad, or serious thing on the planet to avoid actually feeling the gravity of the subject.

Oh the irony of my life.

I find myself in a new place in my life.  For the better part of my life, I've been two completely different people simultaneously.  There's who I am in public and around people, and then there's who I am when I'm alone.  My public version of myself was upbeat and silly and loud and funny.  It was my single greatest illusion I've ever constructed, because the contrasting version of me was far too shameful.  I was horribly depressed. I cried in my room, I was withdrawn, unhappy, and empty inside.  I never wanted anyone to know that about me.

It wasn't until I was 21 and living in Cedar that someone saw me for who I was, and expressed her concern to a friend of mine.  She saw the deadness in my eyes and heard the forced laughter, and I realized when I couldn't get out of bed anymore to face the world that something had to change.  I realized that I couldn't remember the last time I'd actually seen colors, or moreso, the last time I had been happy.

So, I sought a medical intervention.  Four days later I was seeing colors again, and I actually felt OK with who I was.  I still felt minor hollowness inside of myself, but that came from keeping so many people at a distance for so long.

I struggled with letting people in for a long time, trying to overcome these fears I had, and I finally let someone in.  I'll leave you to draw that conclusion.  Just know that ever since the day I told him I trusted him, and I let that wall come down, I feel like an entirely different person.

The dichotomy between public and private me has become more and more narrow.  Public me is starting to chill out a little bit.  I've become more warm and sincere.  I'm finding that I actually have compassion and empathy for my fellow man.  More importantly, private me isn't sad anymore.  Private me smiles for no reason.  I feel hopeful and content.  I like who I see when I look in the mirror.  I don't let my lack of confidence get in my way of what I want to do anymore.  I can walk with my head held high and almost mean it now.  That's partially because having the love of someone who loves everything about me makes me realize that I am, in fact, someone worth loving.  I'm actually enough.

It's true what they say.  Love changes everything.

That makes me so happy.  That abiding, deep, brings-tears-to-your-eyes-because-you-can't-stop-smiling-happy.  Some people call it joy.

Keep it real readers.