Just Abbie

I have always wanted to introduce myself with,

“Hello. My name is Abbie. I’m awesome.”

Except, it isn’t quite true. Surviving the ninth grade and three older brothers is definitely an accomplishment, but awesome?

I guess, “Hi. I’m Abbie. I’m weird.” will just have to do.

People generally like me. They smile when I walk into a room and say sweet things about me and laugh at my jokes, even when they aren’t particularly funny. Of course, it might all be an act. But they seem very genuine. I believe they really do like me!

Honestly, I have no idea why. I can be a real jerk sometimes. I’m self-centered and arrogant, jealous and over competitive, insecure and fearful. I’m very, very selfish.

Usually, when people introduce themselves, they tell you all the good parts.

“Hi. I’m Joe. I’m nice, mostly. I play soccer. I get good grades. I don’t sleep with my teddy bear very much anymore. Last year, I broke my arm and didn’t even cry.”

And yet, there is so much more to Joe than that. He has a good side, of course, a side that says Please and Thank You and Yes Ma’am and No Sir. But Joe also has a bad side – the part of Joe that enjoys pulling his sister’s hair, even when he knows he’ll get a spanking. Then, of course, there is that in-the-middle Joe who can’t make up his mind whether to be a Good Joe or a Bad Joe. You know that creepy Jekyll and Hyde thing in that one book by Robert? I think Joe has a little bit of that going on. It’s like there’s this constant war between obedient Joe and the Joe who wants to slam doors just to make his mom angry.

The good side of Abbie gives me nice, warm, fuzzy feelings sometimes. Like a man petting his dog.  I tell myself, “Nice Abbie. Good Abbie! Does Abbie want a treat?”

But then there are those days when obeying my good side means staying safely inside the fence, even when the grass is greener on the other side.

I hate those days.

Those are the days when my Bad Abbie talks to me. She whispers, “Look at that grass. So green, so soft, so perfect. Who is good Abbie to keep you from it? You’re stronger than her, you know.”

And all of a sudden the whisper grows to a constant nagging. “Only five minutes. Five minutes! Good Abbie wouldn’t mind if it was only five minutes. The pen will be right here for you to jump back into. No harm done! Only five minutes! I start pacing back and forth, my brain screaming. “ONLY FIVE MINUTES!” Bad Abbie sings.

But there is still another voice. A quiet, “No.” No fancy arguments. No dangerous threats. Just, “No.”

I jump the fence. And guess what? Bad Abbie was right. The grass is beautiful. Lush, green, soft. I roll in it, breathe it in, revel in my freedom.

It’s perfect.

Well, almost perfect. There is still a Good Abbie inside me, saying, “NO. Get inside the pen. This isn’t worth it.”

I shut her up with more arguments. Excuses. “Not worth it? Smell this grass! Feel it! How could life get better than this?

What could possibly happen?”

You know, meeting new people is a real pain. Somehow you have to convince them that you are better than you really are. You have to get across the awesomeness of yourself without letting any of the Bad show. You have to pretend to be something you aren’t.

Sometimes I am so good at lying, I even convince myself I am awesome. But to be honest, it just is isn’t true. At the end of the day, I am just me. Just Abbie.