The Way I Am
Warning : dear Reader, the post you are about to read is incredibly Lydia. If you are the least bit weirded out by Lydia (as she herself is), you may not like it. Don't say I didn't warn you. (photo by Caleb Hart) I'm forever grateful to those who know my name. Those who have reminded me of it when I have forgotten or denied it. Those who stood in firm opposition when I called myself hopeless & unwanted. On days like those, it must have been difficult even to choke out the name my parents gave me, but these warriors did. They whispered out "Lydia," in such a tone that it made me feel like the very meaning of my name was "beloved." & then they went so far as to call me that, too. Laugh if you like, but when given such names, I tend to weep. I weep a lot. A friend once told me (after I'd admitted I had cried over something), "Oh honey ... You're you. I would have been worried if you Hadn't cried." Alas, such am I. ...