There’s a thing about preciousness. I think we think it’s something that someone else has to see in us first. I guess it’s connected to your own sense of self-worth or value. I only realised how much I wanted to feel precious when the one person I wanted to see me like that didn’t anymore, and I realised that I never had. Seen myself like that. And then realised that lots of other people in my world saw me like that. And I still didn’t.
What would it mean if you saw yourself as precious? I know all these amazing people, and I’ll just start with women because my world right now is full of these women I’m working with and they are the masters of making other people feel precious. They are laying down their hearts and souls for other people – their children, their husbands, their friends, their family – and they are the WORST (I’m sorry, but you really are), the absolute worst and seeing the most precious one of all and loving her and giving her what she needs.
I’m no expert at it. I’ve been the WORST (I’m sorry, but I really have) for such a long time. Because somehow I thought if they felt precious I would too. That they would notice and wrap me up in adoration or appreciation or recognition. And there wasn’t much wrapping. If you have children you will know that even though they may adore you, they have no concept of returning preciousness to the woman who lays her soul down for them. Why should they? Why would they? How could they possibly understand? How will they ever know that preciousness is not something you give them, but something they have that then flows out? And it makes other people feel precious. But you do not have to DO anything for that. Not one thing. You just look at them with eyes full of your own-ness and it helps them love their own. Their own own-ness. And that is the most precious thing of all.
I have this beautiful man in my life who calls me precious. No one ever called me precious before. The first time it happened it made me realise how much I wanted that, but it wasn’t until I knew myself that I was precious that someone called me that. Unprompted. Without me telling him that that was what I’d always wanted. Someone who would send me a message that said “Goodnight precious”. And I would lay my soul out for him, but for the first time ever that does not mean I will DO all these things. It just means that in the face of it – the way I feel, the way he feels – I’m OK.
And because I am a woman, I can only talk about this from inside me, but if you are a man and you are reading this, maybe it will help you understand that sometimes we are so scared we cannot possibly ever be precious to you. Because for the most part we cannot see it. And it’s not your job to see it for us. It’s our job (OUR JOB women, OUR JOB) to find it, and in the face of that show you everything we are and be OK with that. Us women be OK with that. Because I know for sure with all the couples and the women I have worked with that once she is OK with how she is and knows for sure that she is beautiful and real and true and so absolutely fucking precious and special and important and someone who is worth something (everything) then everything is OK. If he is a good man. And truly, most are good men (we have just confused them hell out them because they’ve been trying DO something that is not the right thing. And will never be the right thing). Because we have to do it ourselves. And a good man will watch that unfold and (most likely) breathe a sigh of relief.
What would it take for you to find a way to your own preciousness? Within your current relationship. Or if you’re not in a relationship before you start a new one.
Because if you can find a way to do that things would be so different.
Understanding preciousness means you’d have to be open to stop doing all the stuff you’ve been doing and stop and breathe. And you’d have to take some time to look inside. And you might need other people to help you, which would include them being brave enough to do it at the same time.
And then? Then you’d be OK. You’d be so OK. You’d be precious.