The just because flowers

Something happened today. A girl at the office got flowers delivered to her from her boyfriend. It wasn’t her birthday. It was just because. It got to me in a way I can’t explain. I’ve seen it happen many times before. It never left a dent. Maybe it’s my hormones, maybe it’s the accumulated stress of moving. Maybe I was just ripe for that kind of reaction. In any case, when I saw her face, and when I saw her mouth, her lips move to say “No, no birthday, no celebration. Just because.” I smiled, I moved on, I sat down. I felt a prodding, a push. And I let it in. Twenty five years, two relationships and I received flowers once. Never got breakfast in bed, no surprise parties, no romantic weekends, no candlelit dinners, nothing ever just because. I remember the two times I was taken to a restaurant where the bill came over a hundred dollars. It started out as “Oh, he’s not the romantic type” and ended as “Oh, I’m not the romantic type. I don’t like flowers. They’re expensive, they stink then they die.” And it’s true (that they die). Another constant absentee was compliments. “You’re beautiful” while wearing sex shop rags and high heels do not count. At 35, in my second relationship, I held hands and kissed in public for the first time in my life. And as much as I enjoyed it, it opened a crack that only grew through the years. I was never abused, merely neglected. I don’t cry for what is gone now, but for what I never had. I know that these things would not have made me happier in the long run. I know that things would have gone the way they have eventually. It’s the weight of telling myself that I got what I deserved, and that I did not deserve more than what I got that I cannot, will not bear anymore. I am a just because type of girl. Being a just because person is great, making people happy is a wonderful feeling. But when I start to question whether I am a just because girl because I wanted to be loved, it’s stirring things deep inside, it’s making me feel even guiltier. Of my passiveness, of my own neglect. Blaming others is hard for me, but it’s getting too heavy on my shoulders now. I’ve got to let this go, acknowledge where I’m at and let time do its work. I get flowers for myself now. I travel to places I’ve always wanted to travel. Slowly but surely I’m letting myself being kind to myself. My kindness will not be my weakness, not anymore. Please, please… be kind to the ones you love.