I am a rock. My version of this fascinating story would go something like this…(me singing) the 70’s hit "I am a Rock, I am an Island." Hopefully, I would be singing in the correct key. One of my oldest friends called me a rock last week. I think of myself as rock headed. You know, thick, dense, and forgetful. She did not mean it like that. She meant it as a compliment.
Maybe you are like me. I do not ever expect a compliment. They catch me off guard. I usually laugh them off and say something along the lines of "oh yeah that’s me, perfect in every way." Inside I am a mass of jumbled emotions. There is nothing perfect about me. I try my best to be a loyal friend, sane mother, loving wife and daughter. All this pressure…Yikes!
Anyway back to my story. I was called a rock for the following reasons. In the past couple of years I have had to deal with some serious stuff. My husband lost his job after the birth of our first child. In February my dad died. I’ve struggled with working full time, working part time and/or being a stay at home mom. I can’t afford this and I certainly can’t afford that. One kid has pneumonia; the other has to go to the hospital for an MRI to check for a cracked skull. When my friend calls me, she just happens to catch me during a stressful time. She marvels at the way I just roll with whatever the crisis is. No one has ever called me a rock before. I wonder, don’t most people deal with ups and downs life throws at them? I can’t be the only one who "seems" to be a-ok. Maybe it was the people we were with. All of these women are high school friends, all single, all very successful (financial whiz kids and lawyers). Their day to day and mine are worlds apart. They were gushing over my travails and how I overcame them. What they see as my achievements are the daily stepping-stones in the life I live.
I am coming to terms with compliments and how to appropriately accept them. I do not usually bask in the glow of an accomplishment. I have moved on to the next project, adventure, disaster, etc. I am learning that a sincere sounding "thank you" is the only response I need.
The point of the story is that this one time I felt like someone was really, truly giving me a compliment. It was not backhanded or insincere. She meant every single word. Late that evening in a quiet moment, I sat down and gave it some thought. I cried long and hard. I was doing something right. I am not too sure what that right thing is but I’ll try to keep it up. You know, rock solid.
