It don’t take much to come up from the cellar of my soul to bask in the sunshine from the skylight in the roof.
In talking with two surveyors, poring over a plot plan in discussion. Making my excuses that, while I know the terminology, they should not expect that I really do know what I’m talking about. Having one stare me in the eye, nodding slowly, and tell me, You do know what you’re talking about.
These words were said to me once before recently, before a presentation on new media via weblog, from someone I respected as authority on the topic. It then, as today, acted like a stairwell leading from the dark oblivion of self-doubt.
Call it poor self-esteem, needy, a woman’s mood (although I am beyond that and never truly suffered from the mood swings caused by cycle, but rather orchestrated this from perhaps a deeper source to evolve this tendency), or just a near-manic/obsessive personality, but I feel pretty good about myself right now.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology