One of the big stories in my childhood is of never being chosen.
I was never anyone’s favourite, I was never picked for dodge ball (or any other team), I was never singled out as the ‘best’ at anything (second best, though – once. Deputy Wing Commander in Air Cadets). My mother chose her lovers, and my half brothers. My father chose the bottle. I chose (and chased) every lover I’ve ever had, and scrambled after them like my life depended on making them choose me back. They didn’t.
I have experienced some of the feeling of being chosen in the realm of my business. My students choose to work with me. Some of my very favourite mixed media art teachers have chosen to collaborate with me. I was chosen for training in something I badly wanted TWICE last year.
Some of my friends have chosen to be my friend, despite the difficulty inherent in befriending me. (I am armoured. I am slow to trust. I am hermity. I am often so wrapped up in orbit around my family that I prioritise their lives over and above my own, and when I had a lover, he was the be all to end all of my existence).
It’s been sweet to be chosen in the ways I’ve been chosen.
But that wound – that ‘pick me’ wound – is oozing lately. The death of my marriage came with the realisation that what I really want, what I’ve always wanted is to be *chosen*, to be wanted, to be desired, to be picked out of the vast array of available choices, to be settled upon in that way lovers settle upon one another, to be *included*, to be *valued* above work or video games or drugs, to belong to someone who isn’t obligated to claim me by virtue of genetics.
Having just come out of orbit around someone who spent twelve years actively *not* choosing me, actively choosing everything else *over* me, actively excluding me, I am feeling this wound very, very clearly.
The wound, though, wasn’t caused by him. I would hazard a guess, actually, that all my life, I have chosen to love (fiercely, desperately) people who will, for whatever reason, *not* chose me. I think there is something in me that has needed to reenact this original wound – this original story of having not been chosen (except as an object to be used for sexual gratification or to prop up someone’s stories about themselves), and the outcome I have desired in these choices is that they will *see me* and *value me* and *choose me* after I prove to them how worthy I am of being chosen.
Listen.
I am worthy of being chosen. I know this in my head. But I’ve never chosen myself. Ever. No one ever showed me how to do that. No one ever chose me, protected me, put me on their wish list, honoured their promises or commitments to me. And I grew into womanhood having no earthly idea what being chosen felt like. And I grew into womanhood having no earthly idea how to choose myself.
This is the next thing, I think. This grappling with the subject of choosing and being chosen.
I wanted to stay friends with my ex because, (I think, I’m guessing at my own labyrinthine psychology) within the context of our friendship, he might still choose me. Meanwhile, I experienced all this longing and desire, this carnality, that meant that being in his presence was like sitting down before a banquet, starving, but wearing a ball gag I couldn’t remove. It was masochistic. A form of self-torture. Being ‘just friends’ meant I had to censor myself, tuck my hands between my knees, deny the very real, sexual desire I felt for him, deny the longing for the kind of intimacy that flows between lovers – the kind that means you *see* one another, know one another, *choose* one another…
It took me two and a half years to accept that this hifalutin goal of being ‘just friends’ was completely, utterly beyond me.
I choose not to do that to myself anymore. I choose to go where I don’t need to wear a ball gag at a banquet. I choose ‘alone’ over ‘fucking torture’ and unrequited love and longing.
I have no idea what comes next.
Which is why I’m writing today, even though I have no happy ending to share, and no wisdom to impart. I’m not writing this for an ‘audience’ or to edify you or embolden you or empower you.
I am not here in service to you today. I am here in service to myself.
I’m writing this is a way to choose myself – over my work, over my ‘audience’, over my sense of protectiveness and loyalty to someone who *never fucking chose me*.
This is where I am. I’ve had a very hard life. I have experienced an enormous amount of pain in the last year *alone*, let alone in the other 46 years of my life that have been marked and marred by violence of all the ways there are to experience violence. I have *been in pain* for most of my life. No word of a lie. And yet, I have risen. And yet, I have created beauty and meaning. And yet, I have kept on keeping on.
But I hadn’t yet done it *for myself*. I did it (I know this now) so someone should SEE me. I did it so someone would LOVE me and, finally, so someone would choose me.
I want to tell you that all changes today, but I have no idea.I know that my desire is that this dynamic change. I want to tell you that I will only ever work, create, serve from a place of self-love and self-possession. But I suspect, like every other way I’ve ever grown, that this will be a non-linear child’s scribble of a journey, and sometimes I’ll succeed, and sometimes, I’ll fail.
What I will promise, though (not you, though – me) is that my days will be spent asking myself this question: “Are you choosing yourself in this? Are you being present with yourself FOR yourself? Who is this for?”
And my mantra will be a continual reminder that I exist, that I *matter*, even when no one is looking.
You are absolutely, totally, fuckin’ AMAZING – I choose you. Over all the other teachers, all the other study courses, I choose you. Because you rip your skin off and show everyone and anyone WHO you are. You are REAL – in a way very few of us are. I Choose . . . YOU.
You may not feel it, but I predict you have just turned a corner. The road ahead does not and will not ever look like the road behind you.
You go, girl!
When I came to this place about ten years ago (at just about the age you are now), I also asked, am I doing *this* with an expectation of some return that has to come from somebody outside myself? Is doing *this* enough in and of itself? If I expect *some-thing* in return for this *thing* I am doing but I don’t get it, how will I feel? When I spent months, cooking and freezing meals for a woman who had treated me as badly as one can treat another, but whose husband was dying for cancer, I first asked who am I doing this for? I was happy to realize I was doing it for me – for who I know I am, despite who she thinks I am. I never communicated with her through the process. Delivered the meals through a third party. Never expected to be acknowledged or to hear a single word of thanks from her, and never did. I had only asked (through third party that delivered), if she wants me to continue, just return the containers each time and I’ll know.
All the best to you on your continued journey, Effy.
I completely understand. its funny I always thought I could get over it, I could just move on but you really never do your heart will always have a piece or a half for that person.. you’ll try really hard but something will smell like him, or worst yet taste like him.. you will tell yourself not to think about him but then it rains a certain way and the sound of it hitting the window will take you back to a moment as if you were there you can almost smell the rain.. or you hear a song and all you can do is hold back tears as they build a poul of water in your eyes and before you know it they are rolling down your face, you start to pray let me just be over this.. but its as if your prayers go un heard.. this is a small form of torture.. you secretly want to see him, the phone rings you just want to hear one word.. that is all, but you know even that will totally tear you apart.. I get it. you tell yourself I am not going to do this anymore.. I am so over this but the truth is he is your soul mate and for whatever reason.. over something stupid it fell to ruins at your feet. you wonder does he think about me as I do him.. its fresh hell.
I can so relate to every word you have written here. Thank you for choosing yourself.
Sometimes it feels like you are writing my life story. Thank God, I think it’s (for me) starting to make sense and like you I am learning, day by day a lesson that is bringing it together and making me a happier person.
my own life has been similar in many ways Effy. I just want you to know the God of all creation has chosen you from conception. He loves you and has always desired a relationship with you. I have no idea what faith you are so surely this is not meant to offend. I feel so much the same as you often but I know that God has always chosen me too! SOMETIMES it’s been hard to believe He would chose me for anything when the rest of the world simply does not, but He does! Wouldn’t it be nice if the rest of the world could see how loved we really are by the Father of all creation. It would certainly change their perspective on what matters! Continue to grow and love yourself, even when it seems to others you are not worthy. They don’t know what you know, they can’t experience life through your heart or eyes. Jesus though has experienced to some or even greater of a degree all of our suffering. God bless you and thanks for sharing. I always loved ya! Sanna
And this is what makes you so damn lovable. You atr so raw, and true and wonderfully human. Thank you for being you – and for choosing yourself.
To allow all of our vulnerabilities to be seen is the mark of a true badass. That is courage, and I applaud you for learning to chose yourself.
I’m a new reader, but thought this was great. I think the most important thing we can do for ourselves is CHOOSE ourselves first, that makes it easier not to be with people who don’t choose us. The questions you pose are excellent. I believe they will serve you well.
Dearest cherished Chosen Effie,
Sanna’sright. The god goddess of all creation has chosen you before the foundations of the world to be holy and blameless in his or her sight. Jesus is androgynous. That’s why you love him along with the Divine Feminine because deep down you know he/she first chose and first loved you . End of preachiness now to your EFFINESS calling me above all the others. I love every fuckin’ thing you teach with GRIT, PLUCK AND SPUNK, I love how you teach it with your soul and love and bravery and guts and organization and your amazing notebook method & over-delivering! You are the best & in my faith I believe God gave me you as a great gift.
Effy all my life I’ve been rejected and I haven’t fit in. Horrible memories of the time for 20 years that I worked as a single parent to support my son and me with a disability and a diagnosis that meant I shouldn’t be working at all flooded my mind this week. My family rejected me because I had a biracial child and they hated me since I was born anyway. So I was in the world defenseless and had to find my way in great stigma and pain in the workforce. I had to be my own mother and father and if it hadn’t been for God I never would’ve made it. But I was damaged by the process and even now I am paying the price. I became physically disabled 12 years ago from the damage to my body for working five jobs at a time sometimes. I almost made it through graduate school for a teaching credential. I had a high maintenance special needs child and went to five counseling and doctor appointments a month for the both of us. It was rough to say the least.
I didn’t have a man in the picture. I was so worn out all I could do was work and take care of my child . Dating was a luxury that was not for me. I found my true love finally when my son was 14 and he (my love)was diagnosed with terminal cancer. We got married then he died finally seven years later. In the month he died I lost my mother-in-law and my mother at the same time. Now I have almost no family left as my sister died of brain cancer four years ago. So I know what it’s like to be alone and toughing it out in the World.
Effy I think God for you being in my life. You bring me joy and the process of doing art spiritually enriches my life and gives me hope that there is more than just pain and suffering. Thank you Effy I choose you.
Solo! God bless you for all you have gone through nd for being a mother when the odds were against you in so many ways. I hear about lives like your and am filled with a sense of amazement that you [pulled through and are so strong! Hugs, Sanna
Ohhh, such resonance. I was chosen, in all my messy brilliant anxious depressed creative glory, by my sweetie. We’ve been through hell together. A year ago, we got married. He chose me for life, “death do us part,” matching tattoos.
And it has thrown me for such a f’ing loop. Because I never chose myself. I need to do the work and, like you, I’m not sure what that means exactly. But being chosen by another, without condition, throws into sharp relief that it is MY task to chose me and without that, no external choice will ever feel real.
Oh Honey you really are worth it, by feeding yourself with love and doing what you want for yourself you will find so many things will happen to you and you will be the top choice
Aww, dear sweet beautiful Effy. There are many who will choose you … But they’re hard to see when you spend your attention on the one who will not.
Too, some of us interpret anxiety and/or longing as attraction and even safety (I think it was a narcissistic mother that kind of cemented this reaction in me very early) … And, can case you to interpret “being chosen/pursued” as threatening and even repulsive.
Wishing you all the best in being chosen :).
You are lovely and lovable Effy. Way to turn a corner and choose you. We should all be so brave!
This is so insightful. You are amazing.
your bravery staggers me. every time.
you have such a good, good, heart and you deserve the best of everything. i’m glad you’ve chosen you and even though it’s going to be hard some days, it’s going to be brilliant all the rest.
big love to you. always. xo
bravo and love.
What a great piece of writing. Thank you for being so raw and sharing. I needed to hear your words, and they are a perfect addendum to addressing my struggles in Ever After. When you share like this, announce like this, you give us all permission and encouragement to do what you are doing. I choose you, Effy. Thank you.