Thank you guys so much for all your sweet words about our little Hendrix, it really does mean a lot to me.  Even though it’s been a year and I still miss him immensely, I know that we gave him a great home for the time he was here.  And I know I’ll see him again some day, because all dogs go to heaven, duh.

Also I think you’ve all given me quite a lot of backing for when I ask/tell Brandon we’re going to add to our canine family.  Bravo to you all.

Now to take a dramatic turn in topics, I wanted to blog about something that’s been really bothering me lately.  I’m sure some of you are well aware of this fact, but for those of you who aren’t, you should know that I am sensitive.  Not like, I need 234 SPF to go in the sun (which I do), or have to wear 24k gold so my skin doesn’t fall off (but that’s also true), but like, cry in fetal position under my bed for 3 hours if you say something mean about me sensitive.  I try really hard to come across confident and sure of myself, and sometimes I actually am…. But then the 8 year old bullied, chubby, taller than all the boys in her class, bookworm Jess starts to whisper in my ear, and I’m a shattered mess of insecurity.

When someone doesn’t like me it cripples me.  Why?  What did I do?  What could I have done differently?  Is it how I look?  Is it they way I talk?  I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but it just does.  It’s the same as the anxiety I’ve dealt with for most of my life.  People say “just stop worrying!”  or “just say who cares!”, but the truth is, you just can’t.  Maybe it’s because of the way my brother treated me when I was younger.  Maybe it’s when I changed schools in 6th grade, and was picked on until I went home crying every day for months.  Both eventually got better, and I hope someday this will too.  But in the meantime, I am so envious of people who can let things roll off their backs and keep their head up without a flinch.  How they do it is a mystery to me, and sometimes I wonder if they’re just really good at hiding it.  Because even in my 4″ heels, I think I’ll always walk a little smaller.

As I had these thoughts running through my mind last night, I turned to something that always helps when I’m feeling frustrated.  It reminds me of my Grandma, who was one of the most fiercely strong and I-am-who-I-am women I’ve ever known, and it spoke to me.  Like, really spoke to me.  I realized that a lot of it is just about control, and sometimes you just have to accept things as they are: “Accepting hardships as the path to peace.”  It suddenly made things a little easier to swallow when I looked at it in that light.

I’m pretty confident in the fact that this will always be a crack in my armor of glass.  I know that it’s just part of who I am, and maybe it’s part of what makes me a good friend.  But I hope that eventually I’ll be able to be one of those people who keeps their head up, even when people are hoping to see you fall.