“The greatest hazard of all, losing one’s self, can occur very quietly in the world, as if it were nothing at all. No other loss can occur so quietly; any other loss—an arm, a leg, five dollars, a wife, etc.—is sure to be noticed.” ―Søren Kierkegaard
Several months ago, I took my favorite dress to a thrift store because no one else liked it as much as I did when I tried it on. At first I hesitated to throw it out, but then reasoned that I wouldn’t feel good about wearing a dress on a special occasion that others didn’t like. But I loved the dress! It felt wonderful on. I loved the color, the drape of the fabric, and the fit. I felt pretty in it.
Giving up the dress was acquiescing. It concerned me that I was the only one who loved it. I wanted to be attractive. Compromising to fit others’ opinions about my attire made sense.
But now… I miss the dress and am upset with myself for getting rid of it. I am learning that I must be less malleable and more resolute about things like this. Sad because I realize that the dress is a metaphor for other things that have been happening. Sad that years of this didn’t bring clarity sooner. Sad that my natural inclination is to put the opinions of others ahead of my own.
I pray my dress wasn’t the start of a slow fade.
