Thank you. Two words. How can they have such a profound impact on an awkward teenager?

Thanksgiving weekend, and all the cousins were getting ready to head out to a movie. I walk into the bathroom to do something, anything, with my appearance to make me feel less dorky. My slightly younger cousin, Melissa, was putting a small hat accessory in her hair (think: Debbie Gibson’s Electric Youth). It was cool and looked great. I shared my admiration with Melissa. She turned to me, smiled and said, “Thank you.” She said it with such warmth, and I felt pleased. Then, I felt confused. I recognized at that moment that I couldn’t recall the last time someone had thanked me for a compliment. I couldn’t remember the last time I had done so, either. Of course, the words ‘thank you’ were said often as part of good manners: Thank you for helping. Thank you for cooking. Thank you for picking me up. Thank you for passing the peas. Thank you for holding the door… You get the idea. Thank you for giving me a compliment? Huh. That one stumped me, and here’s why. For the majority of my late childhood/early adolescence the females (family, friends, acquaintances) in my life wouldn’t accept them. “That color looks great on you!” “You think so? I wasn’t sure.” “I love that new haircut.” “I think it makes my chin look big, but thanks.” “You look wonderful.” “If I could just lose these last 10 pounds…” The compliments and rejections flowed freely back and forth, and I was developing the same pattern. I just couldn’t see what others saw. “Jessica, your artwork is really good.” “You should see my brother’s.” After that moment with my cousin Melissa I vowed to try and accept compliments rather than repelling them with my sour teen force field. My first opportunity came the very next day. One of my Aunts gave me a compliment, something about my hair. I said thank you. It felt weird. It felt wrong. Not an hour earlier I had despairingly stared in the mirror at my recently layered mop of hair lamenting at what a disaster it was. Accepting the compliment was a little step toward a freedom I didn’t know existed.

It took a long time for me to learn to separate how I saw and felt about myself and how others saw me. It is an ongoing practice. When I’m feeling stressed or less than confident, I revert back to the “Thank you, but…”. Most of the time, however, my thank yous are true and heart felt. Thank you, Melissa, for this memory and experience you may not even be aware of. Thank you everyone for reading, commenting on, and sharing this blog. Thank you, and no buts about it.

I want to thank those who read the blog and comment.