dear Bridget: who’s that lady

Dear Bridget,

There are so many things I want for you. I want you to know who you are. I want you to figure out what your dreams are and pursue them. And I want you to become a lady.

I know. It sounds like an antiquated concept. No doubt the word conjures an image of a 1950s housewife in a poofy dress, perched on the edge of a fancy sofa while she daintily sips her tea and waits for her husband to come home.

Um, no. What I want for you is not a male-driven concept of femininity. That’s not what being a lady is about. Quite the opposite, actually.

Put simply, a lady is a woman who knows her worth. She knows her body is beautiful and refuses to use it to manipulate or control. And although she may enjoy fashion, she knows what makes her unique and worth knowing is more than what’s on the surface.

A lady knows how to fight, especially for the ones she loves and the causes she believes in. She isn’t afraid to work hard, to jump in and roll her sleeves up, even when life gets messy. Because she’s not afraid of messy. Fight for your dreams, Bridget. They’re yours to protect.

A lady realizes words are powerful so she chooses them carefully, refusing to denigrate or disparage others. But she is also unafraid to speak the truth, even if she’s the only one. Your voice is powerful, Bridget. Use it wisely.

A lady understands the importance of relaxation. She knows that sometimes the best thing she can do is take a break instead of pushing herself to exhaustion, because although achievement is wonderful, her worth is not determined by it. Know how to step back and take a moment for yourself, Bridget.

A lady takes disappointment in stride. I wish I could tell you that life will treat you well, Bridget. But the reality is, you’re going to deal with tons of disappointment. I know you already have. Nothing says more about you than how you deal with the disappointing side of life. It’s okay to be sad or angry. It’s even okay to wallow for a moment. But the real question is, do you get back up again?

A lady also accepts success gracefully. You may learn the most about someone by how they handle disappointment, but you learn almost as much from how they handle success. Take a moment to enjoy it, Bridget, and acknowledge those who aided your success, and then keep moving.

Those are only small pieces of what defines a lady. Because there is no one-size-fits-all. Each lady is unique because she has special talents and dreams. But the key is that she knows her talents and she knows who she is.

It takes time, Bridget, to know who you are. It’s a journey, of figuring out what your talents are and what you want to become. But that’s a journey you get to take. No one else gets to define your dreams for you. And there’s no one in this world quite like you, Bridget. When you can wrap your head around that, you’ll be well on your way to becoming the powerful, intelligent lady I know you can be.

Love,

Halee

Hey reader! If you missed the introduction to this series of letters, you can find it here.

That time when… I had an altercation

This month’s story comes from a day I ended up getting a scrape on my finger. But that’s obviously not the funny part. It’s the how.

I have a strange habit of talking to myself in my mind.

Well, not always just myself. Also other people who simply aren’t there at the moment. It’s usually whoever happens to be on my mind. I have a constantly running mental dialogue. And sometimes my mouth moves in spite of my best efforts to keep it still.

I try not to do it in front of other humans (although as last month’s story illustrates, sometimes I fail miserably).

In this case, I was in the bathroom at work. No one else was in there. And it was a stressful week. So I was having a mental conversation with a friend about it.

I have another strange habit. When I talk (even just to myself), the more intense I get about something, the wilder my gestures. So there I was walking toward the sink, mumbling and gesticulating wildly when *whack* a wall jumps out at my hand. That’s the only explanation for why my hand would hit a wall while every other part of me avoided it easily.

That’s not the worst part.

The worst part is that it was my right hand and the wall was on my left.

Yeah. Your guess is as good as mine. I can’t explain it.

All I know is I had an altercation with a wall that caused my ring to dig into my finger, resulting in a lovely little scrape/bruise. And jarring me out of my in-depth mental discussion.

I immediately promised myself I would tell no one about it.

Four hours later, I told my husband all about it.

Just call me the queen of hilarious and accidental self injury. And excuse me while I talk to myself about it.