When I see someone do well, in any capacity, I want nothing more than to celebrate. Toss a fistfull of ‘fetti in the air above her head and grab that megaphone of mine.
[tap] Ahem. Excuse me?
I need to take a moment to positively shovel praise all over you.
I can see why some tend to think of praise in the same way they might consider their bank account- a constant transaction of spending and saving. Receiving compliments builds you up, adds to your self savings, and maybe makes you feel freer to spend your time- your days, your energy- pursuing whatever just jazzes you.
When someone breaks you down, you’re poorer for it. You worry when you’ll feel so secure again. Can I get back to that place- where I had, I was- enough?
But when I give a compliment, when I stop abruptly on a crosswalk to tell someone they’ve just taken my breath away, when I brake to bleed smiles over a decent doing, I don’t feel like my account is suffering for it.
And this happens no less than twice each day.
Because I’m giving does not mean someone is taking.
Because I’m passing out praise as I do Halloween candy- in fistfuls- doesn’t mean I won’t have any left over to sweeten my own self.
Because I’m thinking to myself as I see you enter a room, and must- oh I must- tell you, that, you are glowing and sexy and commanding of the entire length of my attention, doesn’t mean that I don’t- that I can’t- glow so golden for another.
Because I see you labor and ask you how- how, how, how?– you find such strength and motivation, doesn’t mean that I can’t be powerful just the same.
Because that thing you did that meant something, anything, to me? However teeny tiny or eensy weensy? However unaffecting and unnoticeable? Well it spoke to me. About you, about me.
Because the way you smiled of waved or held that elevator open for my hurry or told me something that turned my day right-side-up, I can’t help but pause to thank you.
It changed me. The way I felt, the way I saw the day; it tendered me.
Because you said something that set some part of me so on fire, I’ll waft those flames your way when you’re cold.
Because my mother told me every.single.day of my life- from birth to 135lbs bigger than I could carry- that I was positively radiant- I want you to know, to feel, that, too.
Because I’ve felt unappreciated, I’ll clap loud when I can for you. Even all by ourselves. When no one else can hear for miles.
Because I’ve walked on pins and needles, I’ll pick them up as best I can before you set your tootsies down.
Because I’ve thought myself to be a loser- lesser than less- and then even that decimal amount divided by two- I’ll spend half a year showing you why you’re more. And maybe learn that I’m more, in turn.
Giving you warmth doesn’t leave me cold.
Letting you borrow all the good vibes I have on me, today, doesn’t mean the one I have left can’t multiply and grow and bloom without me taking it all back.
Just because my day feels cloudy with a chance of rain doesn’t mean your sunshine burns me.
Just because you are positvely roc-king that top, that dress, that life of yours, it doesn’t paint me unpretty.
We’ll all be that, a vision, in our own way, in our own time.