You are a diamond.
I say that often, here on facebook.
It becomes a statement easily ignored.
It can lose its impact.
But if you’ve ever seen an uncut diamond,
Then a well cut diamond…
The visual impression sticks.
Last night, while out with Nicole, a friend of about seven years, I referenced my past as it applied to the topic we were discussing, and she looked at me hard.
“Do you want me to tell you, briefly, about my youth?”, I asked her.
“Yes.”, she said.
“Okay. I’m going to tell you news reporter style.
Facts, persons involved, no emotion, okay?”
She agreed, and I began.
She stopped to ask questions a time or two, and teared up, (which I was hoping to avoid with the reporter-style revelations, but a human heart that is touched like that is a precious thing, and I would rather appreciate that about her than feel bad for inspiring the water leakage from her eyes) and I finished with a statement about being a diamond.
A rare thing.
There are terms for us, you and me, who lived through rocky terrain and turbulent waters to see another day.
They apply to ::so many:: of us, as life is hard and the number of people who suffer as children is as great as the sands on the shores of the ocean.
But I don’t care for the terms, though they have their place.
I choose gemstones to describe people.
Pearl. Diamond. Opal. Garnet.
And I ::am:: getting to a point, here…
– I am not allowed to divulge anything I hear during the therapy sessions I interpret for at the center, but I can share random things the boys say when not in therapy, and I am going to tell you what J, who is 13 years old, said as we were walking in the hallway.
J broke two bones in his arm once, playing, and when a peer asked him how bad it had hurt, J remarked that it wasn’t that bad, certainly not as painful as a baseball bat on the back.
Thinking it was another sports injury, the boy in the conversation asked how something like that could happen, even accidentally.
J replied, “Oh, no. That’s why they took me from my mom when I was three. She would hit me with a bat.”.
I looked at him and considered what direction to steer this conversation in, as it was going to end up in a negative puddle on the floor, or an uplifting ray of sunlight, or cause the boys to think about where they have come from and who knows what domino effect that would set off.
I chose distraction.
We were headed to the lunchroom and I knew that light-hearted banter would begin and continue if we changed the subject, so I said, “J, I can look at your face now and picture how you must have looked as a three year old.
Boy, I bet you were a cutie-pie.”
The boys began to ask, “Do you think I was a cute baby, Miss Alma?”, each one wanting the same validation that J received, like baby chicks around a mother hen pecking at the ground for their piece of corn.
“Of course you were.” – “Oh, I’m sure of it.”, were my answers. And we arrived at the lunchroom.
J is rare. Uncommon.
Intelligent, wise, full of insight, the statements he makes in group therapy sessions show the workings of a sharp intellectual mind that delves deeply into a topic like a scuba diver plunges into the ocean,
resurfacing with treasure/conclusions that one doesn’t come upon easily.
I am in his corner.
But I shared that tidbit to make a point.
Right now, he is a diamond that not only looks rough but IS rough.
He is in need of the right handling to become what he was meant to be.
Precious and valuable.
You are a diamond.
What you have lived and the circumstances you’ve overcome form a gemstone inside of you that is precious and should be cared for and loved,
tenderly and faithfully.
Do not regard yourself as a common thing, a pebble underfoot.
After I told Nicole my story she was quiet and watery-eyed. Sober.
I smiled my most radiant smile at her.
“Look at me, Nicole. I am happy. Those people had power over my life back then, and they made me miserable, but they don’t have a right to my tomorrows and I won’t let them have them.
I wrenched my life out of their hands and now I determine how happy I will be. They don’t have a say anymore, not even in the sexual arena. I refuse to let them invade my future.”
We must see ourselves as one of the gemstones chosen to adorn a crown for royalty.
We may not be the centerpiece, but maybe we are.
One thing is for sure, we are on the crown, not the ground, and just as few are allowed to take ahold of the crown,
few should be the number of those who can come close enough to touch us in our hearts and our body’s most vulnerable places.
If someone wants to be close enough to touch you, they have to know what they’re reaching for.
A person in a museum with access to the Constitution knows how to handle it, and they aren’t careless.
That same person will remove a flier from their windshield at the mall and crumple it into a ball.
Both items are made of paper.
Both items have printing on them.
Both want to be read by human eyes.
What’s the difference?
You know the answer.
That is my message for you today.
Look inside yourself and see.
See the diamond.
Don’t let just anyone handle you.
♡No one gets to hold you unless they truly know what they are reaching for.♡