Throughout our lives, for many of us, we wonder, am I lovable? Under the word lovable, we can have whole list of what this means. It can mean popular, pretty, even being acknowledged (or accoladed) for our achievements. Sometimes, it just means being seen. Research on relationships are now showing that love in all it’s incarnations pretty much shows up the same, it is being loved and accepted just as we are, it is being heard when we have something to say, it is having our feelings acknowledged and accepted, not swept aside either by words or by the pained look on someone else’s face that might say, “Your emotions are too much for me.”
This being said, I know now, that for much of my really young life, I didn’t feel loved, and I never felt accepted at the Catholic grade school I attended. At school, I felt generally safe, much safer than I did at home, but I did not feel accepted. I was jealous of the popular girls and boys, too, the ones who talked about having cabins to go to on the weekends, who took family vacations, and who seemed to have an easy confidence that I lacked. It pains me a little now, to remember the small child I was, trying to navigate the world with only my mother’s voice in my head, telling me how she was not accepted in the neighborhood we lived in; and how we were not rich like all the other people in all the social circles we traveled in. Always on the peripheral.
And so, when in about 7th grade, a boy told me he liked me, I thought he was joking and laughed at him. I didn’t try to make him feel bad, by laughing and joking it off, I seriously could not believe that he could like me. I didn’t know how to like myself, and so I wasn’t able to imagine anyone else liking me. When I found out from my best friend’s brother, who was in the same grade as us, that I’d hurt this kid’s feelings, I felt bad and confused. But wasn’t he trying to make fun of me? I guess not.
Then the next year in 8th grade, still hanging out with my best friend, and having access to boys because of her brother, one night, I actually kissed and made out with a popular boy, actually, probably the most popular boy in the school. Blond, athletic, sweet and from a good, well-off family. I was surprised by this, but again, confused. Did he really like me? How could he possibly? I was not “one of them.” I was the outsider, if only in my own head, carefully kept within these boundaries, still, by my mother’s voice. If she didn’t know how to belong, how could I? This was not my first kiss, but one of them. I never expected that we would ‘go’ with each other, or that this meant anything more than goofing off and exploring as kids do.
That was more than 40 years ago. This makes me feel ancient. More than 40 years ago. This past fall, I attended a service for my best friend’s brother. He died young after living a hard life. A lot of people showed up at his memorial, I showed up to be there for my friend. Surprisingly, a handful of people from our Catholic grade school showed up, and one of them, the popular boy that I had kissed in 8th grade. I felt that same sense of insecurity creeping up, but by now, I’d worked through some of it. I could shake hands, make conversation, and know, that I was not ‘less than’ any of these people. It was a nice feeling. What I didn’t expect was to hear him say, “Of course I remember you, you were my first kiss.”
My reaction was surprise, I hadn’t thought about that ‘make out session’ in my best friend’s bedroom for many years. And so I said, “Oh yeah, that’s right, I forgot.” He was like, “How could you forget?” And so, while I so under valued myself, this guy had remembered, and carried with him, me, as his first kiss. So, you see, when we don’t value ourselves, it often stands in the way of believing that others value or love us. I think this is what happened with my mom. In many ways, she stayed the poor child with the immigrant dad, feeling under valued, not being able to see how valued she was , and still is. Still hoping to prove that she is lovable. I understand this too well, and so, only 40 years later, I am learning more each day to love myself, to value myself. To each day, give myself, my first kiss.
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