In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Take a Chance on Me.”

I’ve always been a bit shy.  Less so as the years go on.  But beneath my cool calm collectedness there is that part of me that wants others to SEE me, to poke beneath the shell to see what awaits.  But then I suppose at times in my life I have used my shyness as an excuse perhaps to avoid getting hurt, to avoid rejection.

I remember moving while in elementary school.  Desperately wanting others to take a chance on me.  But not sure how to make my light shine so that they would.  Feeling frozen.

There were the times I’d go to the school dances, having carefully chosen my outfit, put on my makeup and having done my hair.  I’d felt confident leaving the house.  Then I’d stand against the wall with my friends just aching for a boy to notice me, but I was invisible.

As time went on I did figure out the boy thing.  I remember meeting the man who would be my husband.  We were coworkers.  We’d chit chat.  I’d make excuses to seek him out at work.  Still it took forever before we went out on a date.  He took a chance on me.  We took a chance on each other.

As time went on I became less shy.  I’m still a fairly quiet person though.   My father had never tried very hard to build relationships outside of the family.  When it came time for his funeral, this was painfully obvious.  After he died, I thought a lot about how he and I were alike .  That we either couldn’t or wouldn’t do the work to take a chance on others.  I started accepting more responsibility and tried harder trying to form relationships .

But even though I’ve grown over the years, I still want others to take a chance on me.  Don’t we all.

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