The times in my life where I am emotional, because I feel overwhelmed by things and circumstances beyond my control, are few and far between.
Trust me. I’ve been called cold, callous and uncaring more than once in my almost forty-one years.
I’ve always been The Other Girl, never That Girl
On this one day, March 30th, of every year since I was 21, I don’t want to be The Other Girl.
I’ve always been the The Other Girl.
The girl who is strong, the girl who is brave, the girl who is not afraid of any man, woman or child, the one you can go to when you are hurting.
The Other Girl…
The girl who doesn’t need anyone, the girl who can go it alone, the girl that never needs to be held.
The Other Girl…
The girl who never loses it, the girl who always is in control, the girl who never cries.
On March 30th, of every year since I was 21, I desperately want to be That Girl.
The girl who is stronger than me, the girl who is braver than me, the girl who knows that there is nothing wrong with being afraid once in a while. The girl who hurts and needs to feel the warmth and comfort that only the arms of a man can provide.
That Girl…
The girl who needs people, the girl who can’t do it all by herself, the girl who needs to be held.
That Girl…
The girl who isn’t afraid to lose it, the girl who breaks down, the girl who just doesn’t cry, she sobs.
But I can’t be…and I don’t think I ever will…again.
I was That Girl once…but on March 30th when I was 21, I stopped being That Girl at 7:35pm.
It wasn’t until several years later that I became The Other Girl.
I moved, remarried, had more children and became not The Other Girl, not just yet, but a Different Girl
This Different Girl was in some ways, a lot like That Girl…
She cried, she loved, she had the comfort that every girl needs…or so she thought.
Until the first time March 30th rolled around for the Different Girl…
The comfort she had, was not the big fluffy Blanket she thought it was when she first wrapped herself in it…she finally saw it for what it really was.
A thin, cheap, threadbare, used Sheet…an excuse…an illusion to warmth, because it never was capable of giving it in the first place…and had no business selling itself in such fancy and misleading packaging.
The Different Girl did find another Blanket in which to wrap herself…four times thicker than the sheet, four times more comforting, four times stronger with four times the love that was in the sheet. This Blanket was worthy of the fancy package, it delivered everything it was represented too.
And The Different Girl loved this Blanket, more than any other.
After this realization, The Different Girl became The Other Girl…yet there were parts of The Different Girl inside, reserved for her Four-Ply Blanket.
But still…I wish…for just once, just once a year…I could be That Girl again.
I’ve come close, but no cigar…
I guess sometimes, some of us are destined to be The Other Girl…
Maybe because “somebody”, “somewhere” knows they can be The Other Girl…
Maybe because The Other Girl is exactly what The Other Guy needs.
Maybe because somewhere, somewhere deep inside of The Other Girl and The Other Guy…are The Different Girl andThat Girl and inside the The Other Guy are The Different Guy and That Guy…
And maybe, just maybe…they all will finally have That Blanket that they all want…but more importantly…need.


