Love/Hate Relationship

I have been told that at 9:30 pm, on a very warm summer day in 1955, a woman gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. She was quite happy to have successfully carried this child to term, following two devastating miscarriages. Her family was now "well rounded" with her handsome husband and three-year old son. The daughter, was almost totally perfect. She was born with a finger-print sized and shaped birthmark on her left shin and she was as bald as a cue ball. This long-anticipated baby girl had no hair for a ribbon or bow, and failed to attain that fete until age two, when fine, straight dark spikes first appeared. She was named, "Victoria." A little baby, but a large victory for her mom.

Victoria spent most of her life hating that birthmark, because she felt it was ugly, obvious and big. She was often asked what it was, and even had a nun scold her in front of her entire class for having a "dirty grease mark" on her leg. Looking back, she wished she had summoned the courage to witness the nun's reaction when she was informed it was a only a birthmark, but the child's head only lowered in shame. She damned that ugly mole.

The passing of time worked wonders for gaining acceptance of this glaring imperfection and she almost forgot it even existed until recently, when a dermatologist insisted on performing a biopsy of the tissue. Victoria argued that it hadn't changed in 60 years, and was confident that if it was "bad," then it would have done her in by now, but the doctor was relentless. 

Fortunately, the results of the biopsy came back negative, which, deep down in her heart, she knew would be so, but something odd happened. Victoria's whole attitude changed about the way she felt about her "special mark." No one else in the world had the exact same mole, of the same size or shape, in the exact same place as she. It had set her apart from everyone else. It was special, thus, she felt it made her special.

Today, that perfect, fingerprint shaped birthmark has a round indentation in its center. It's no longer perfect, thus, she almost felt shame once more, until she realized that no one in the world had the very same mole, of the same shape and size, in the exact same place, with a hole in its center, as she. It remained special, and thus, she felt that she remained special.

The moral of the story is: You can hate something - grow accustomed to it - like it - love it - lose it -  mourn its loss - accept it once more and move on. It's a journey over time, but the best time was when you loved it, so don't waste too much of your precious life on all those negative emotions - get right to acceptance, and love will follow before you realize it was never loved at all.