But I did forget to mention that I have strep throat now

Oh boy. I should have known what this would bring. After the myriad phone calls and comments I got yesterday, I wanted to assure everyone that yes, I really am fine. Then again, you’re often reminded that you aren’t allowed to use the word “fine” in the ED unit…that and “full is not a feeling”. Long story.

When I told Mom that my point was never to concern people, or worry anyone, or even to ask for validation, she immediately said, “Well you should say that then!”

But that’s Mom. She wants to make sure that everyone understands me and what I intended with the blogging. I kind of wanted to leave it alone. Heaven help her if I ever get around to writing the book I always wanted to and she immediately has to set out to contact everyone we know to make sure they know I’m really not as bad as I made it seem.

But I always was the perfectly behaved child.

So I hope everyone knows the following:

1. I do believe people when they tell me I am loved. I don’t just believe it, I feel it. I have had more love in my life than many could ever hope for and I never, ever take it for granted. My friends, my family, my pets…you name it…have quite literally saved me too many times to count.

I am reminded DAILY that a husband like mine is the most miraculous and precious gift I have even been given. And you know what? I even agree with the notion that I have given the love that was required to find him. Karma and all that.

2. But believe them when they say I’m beautiful? Sorry guys. I blame no one but myself, and let me get this part clear…I DO NOT EXPECT YOU TO CONVINCE ME. I appreciate all the kind comments, but it’s a challenge that goes too far back for anyone to “fix” but me.

Mr. Blogger tells me on a daily basis how amazing, sexy, gorgeous blah blah blah I am. And it isn’t just to appease me…he REALLY means it. It’s everything I can do to just say “thank you…uh…right back atcha’!”.

I know I’m smart. I know I’m a fairly ok writer as blogs go. I know I am a hard worker, and a caring and supportive friend/daughter/cousin/I hope wife.

I don’t even blame the parents who told me that they “assumed I knew I was pretty and therefore didn’t need to tell me, because don’t intelligent people just pick up on such things?” I really really don’t. These were two HIGHLY intelligent people who also both thought, no, KNEW they were DAMN fine looking as well. Trust me, there was no lack of ego or self esteem there. Their assumption about any offspring from such impeccable genes is COMPLETELY understandable.

That’s MY choice to not have dealt with by now. I mean really, get the fuck over it Brooke. That’s what I tell myself. One day…ONE DAY…I’ll believe it. And if not, well then, I’ll get closer at least.

I do think I have pretty hands and nails though. (See…progress!)

3. Yes, this IS good therapy for me. So expect it to therefore be like me…some days it’s up, some days it’s down. Either way, it’s honest. And I appreciate your patience with my need to express it. I think you know me well enough to know that THIS was never my goal.

(Oh my god…seriously…read that thing. It’s so boring I don’t know who would make it past the third paragraph. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.)

Damn I’m bitchy!

4. Eminemily…I can always count on you for a break from the touchy feely.

Of COURSE I’ve read Levenkron…fiction and non-fiction alike. And Girl Interrupted. And Prozac Nation (although in that one I did kinda want to slap Elizabeth Wurtzel and tell her to snap out of it!)

And I read them all before some Hollywood actress decided she wanted Oscar-bait and optioned the screenplay.

(I’m also snooty.)

And most importantly, 5. Yes Mom, you reminded me many many times that even if I turned out to be an axe murderer, or drug addict, or even (gasp) a Republican, you would love me anyway. ‘Cause that’s what parents do. They love their children unconditionally. Well, good parents do anyway.

And that you are.