Show 'N Tell with Little Me

Just recently, I made a book about my pets called, “No Dogs Allowed,” and yesterday I took it to my therapy session. What’ve you got there, my therapist asks. I said it was a Shutterfly book. When T looked perplexed, I explained I made it by uploading photos and, using Shutterfly software, designed a book that was then printed. It’s a glossy cover hardback with a photo of two golden retrievers and my dust mop, Sugar, on the cover. I know T is an animal lover because when I told her a story about a doe and fawn frozen to Mississippi ice for two days, it brought tears to her eyes. It’s something we have in common. 

Can I see it, T asked, referring to the book. I was excited to show it to her. Excited to show pictures of my family. Of the dog who saved my life, the one who stole my heart, the blind diabetic, two in diapers, another the object of a civil case between my sister and a schizophrenic childhood friend. I told stories of rescue and of death. Mi familia. 

T looked over each page, commenting, asking questions. I stood by her chair to follow along and was eager to tell stories. When she finished looking at the book, I sat down. It was Little Me who brought the book in to show you, I disclosed, feeling a little sheepish. Yes, I told T, Little Me. I know it’s her, I said, because I’m excited to show you the book. When I was little, it wasn’t safe to share things with my parents, and I’ve got years of Show & Tell saved up inside me. It did feel rather like show and tell, said T. Yes, I agreed, and there’s lots more to come. There’s another part too, I continued. It’s my fear of being dismissed, unnoticed, not good enough. If you flip through the book, casually glancing at every other page, I know I am not worthy of your care and attention. I am not worthy, period. 

Last year after terminating with oldT, I created a Shutterfly book that was a reflection of the work I’d done during my time with her. I gave it to oldT, sending it through the mail. Half of me believed I wouldn’t get a response from her. All of me wanted one. About six weeks later, I called oldT to ask about something else, but I also wanted to know if she’d gotten the book. Yes, she’d received it. Well, I asked. There was a pause. Then oldT said, I’m disappointed. My turn to pause, to feel tears flooding my eyes. Oh, it’s a nice book, oldT said finally. “But” hung in the air. Little Me was crushed.  

Give whatever you are doing and whoever you are with the gift of your attention. - Jim Rohn 

The moment one gives close attention to any thing, even a blade of grass it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself. -Henry Miller 

Pay attention!