Have you ever carried an emotional insurance policy? Tucked away against future pain? Something you kept when everything else was going in the bin, being left in the past? Every time that thing resurfaces and you choose to keep it again, it’s a payment on that policy. When I
walked ran away from the wrong life I’d chosen, I had to go, but there in the back of my heart was a shadow of the fear, “What if it all blows up in my face?” You never know when it’s going to shatter into a million dangerous pieces… or slowly crumble and drift away until you are standing alone and lonely, ankle-deep in desiccated dreams. Against the day when I would feel unloved and unlovable, I kept an envelope of little declarations to the contrary. Yes, someone at sometime had loved me. Not the right someone, but still.
This last time payment came due, the envelope fell out from the back of a closet, it had been a long time. I looked over that policy again. It no longer suited my needs. Into the bin with it. I still cannot know that my whole world won’t go pear-shaped one afternoon, and I am loved again, but more startlingly, there is something new where that niggling little fear had been. It’s a tiny plaque that says, “You are enough.”