Kim
Friends are treasures.
Horace Bruns
We both lie sideways on her bed, the screen door slapping open and shut
with the California breeze. We thumb through fashion magazines, laughi
ng at the hairstyles and smelling the perfume samples. It seems like an
y other Sunday between girlfriends; laughter filling the room, a half-e
aten carton of cookies between the two of us. This was my Sunday aftern
oon ritual, the two of us and our magazines, and from the time I was tw
elve, I lived for these afternoons. She was my friend, but more than th
at, she was a safe place, an unconditional love, and she was an adult.
I had known Kim most of my life. For the first ten years of my life, Ki
m wasn't one of the closest adults in my life, but her husband John dot
ed on me and was one of the only "grown-ups" to understand my fearless
and abundant energy.
When I was twelve, I moved to Los Angeles to live with my father. Kim a
nd John also lived nearby, and soon after my move, I began spending tim
e at their home. Kim was fun; she liked to laugh and talk about boys. S
he listened to me while I talked about my crushes and fights with my fa
mily. She spoke to me as an equal, as a friend, not a child.
As I grew older, these visits became more important. I would cry over h
eartbreaks and whine about the latest rejection. The gap in age between
us stayed the same, but the space between us grew closer. I called her
with secrets, which she kept, and went to her when I couldn't handle m
y world for a while.
I think my parents went through periods of jealousy and hurt regarding
Kim and our friendship, because they wished they could be the ones to w
hom I came with my stories. I had reached an age where it was harder to
relate to my parents, but I still needed guidance. Kim offered that gu
idance; she didn't force-feed it.
Soon I was sixteen, and things began to change. I sunk into sadness, an
d I was slipping away from everyone, including Kim. I was taken to the
hospital after swallowing a bottle of pain medication, and there, witho
ut question, was Kim. She was two hours away when the call came, and sh
e showed up at the hospital with hair things and, of course, magazines.
We didn't talk about the incident, but when she pulled my hair up for
me, I saw in her eyes true fear and heartache. She used to say to me, "
You wouldn't want to spend so much time with me if I really was your mo
m." I didn't understand those words until that day when she offered me
the feeling of love without obligation. She wasn't my mom; she wasn't o
bligated to love me, she just did.
After my suicide attempt, things between us, though unspoken, began to
change. I stopped spending Sunday afternoons at her house. I called, bu
t not as often. I didn't feel good about myself, so I couldn't feel goo
d about our friendship. I figured I had grown up and that we had just g
rown apart. Like any normal . . . [continued]
continued)
friendship, it had transformed, and I believed that I no longer needed
Kim or the friendship.
The summer before I left for college, I went to say good-bye to Kim. Th
ough we hadn't been as close for the last two years, we both cried when
I left. I walked down the walkway from her house, and she called out f
rom the kitchen window, "Call me if you need anything." I knew she mean
t that.
My first semester was hard. I was far from home, a little lonely, and t
hings began to swing back down for me. With pure instinct, I picked up
the phone. It was late. Kim picked up the phone, and I asked, "Were you
sleeping?" She replied, "Yes, but it's okay. What's wrong? What do you
need?" What I needed was Kim. I needed to hear her voice, and feel tha
t California breeze in her back bedroom. I needed to tell her that our
friendship had finally surpassed the age gap.
We talked about once a week after that, every Sunday afternoon. I calle
d with the stress of my finals and with my newest boy problem. When I r
eturned home for the summer, I went to Kim's, and we read magazines and
ate cookies. I had become an adult, what she had always been. When I w
as younger, she had related to me on a level that I needed at that time
, and now she relates to me as an equal. She was right; things would ha
ve been different if she were my mom. I didn't need another mom. I had
one. I needed exactly what she gave: love, unconditional. And because s
he wanted me in her life, not because she had to have me.
Lia Gay
(c) 2000 Lia Gay. All rights reserved. Reprinted from Chicken Soup for
the Teenage Soul III by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Kimberly Kir
berger. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retr
ieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the wr
itten permission of the publisher. Publisher: Health Communications, In
c., 3201 SW 15th Street, Deerfield Beach, FL 33442.
My Declaration of Self-Esteem
by Virginia Satir
The following was written in answer to a 15-year-old girl's question, "
How can I prepare myself for a fulfilling life?"
I am me.
In all the world, there is no one else exactly like me. There are peopl
e who have some parts like me but no one adds up exactly like me. There
fore, everything that comes out of me is authentically mine because I a
lone choose it.
I own everything about me -- my body, including everything it does; my
mind, including all my thoughts and ideas; my eyes, including the image
s of all they behold; my feelings, whatever they might be -- anger, joy
, frustration, love, disappointment, excitement; my mouth and all the w
ords that come out of it -- polite, sweet and rough, correct or incorre
ct; my voice, loud and soft; all my actions, whether they be to others
or myself.
I own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears.
I own all my triumphs and successes, all my failures and mistakes.
Because I own all of me, I can become intimately acquainted with me in
all my parts. I can love me and be friendly with me in all my parts. I
can then make it possible for all of me to work in my best interests.
I know there are aspects about myself that puzzle me, and other aspects
that I do not know. But as long as I am friendly and loving to myself,
I can courageously and hopefully look for the solutions to the puzzles
and for ways to find out more about me.
However I look and sound, whatever I say and do, and whatever I think a
nd feel at a given moment in time is me. This is authentic and represen
ts where I am at that moment in time.
When I review later how I looked and sounded, what I said and did, and
how I thought and felt, some parts may turn out to be unfitting. I can
discard that which is unfitting and keep that which proved fitting, and
invent something new for that which I discarded.
I can see, hear, feel, think, say and do. I have the tools to survive,
to be close to others, to be productive, to make sense and order out of
the world of people and things outside of me.
I own me and therefore I can engineer me. I am me and I am okay.
Glenna's Goal Book
In 1977 I was a single mother with three young daughters, a house payme
nt, a car payment and a need to rekindle some dreams.
One evening I attended a seminar and heard a man speak on the I x V = R
Principle. (Imagination mixed with Vividness becomes Reality.) The spe
aker pointed out that the mind thinks in pictures, not in words. And as
we vividly picture in our mind what we desire, it will become a realit
y.
This concept struck a chord of creativity in my heart. I knew the bibli
cal truth that the Lord gives us "the desires of our heart" (Psalms 37:
4) and that "as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he" (Proverbs 23:7).
I was determined to take my written prayer list and turn it into pictu
res. I began cutting up old magazines and gathering pictures that depic
ted the "desires of my heart." I arranged them in an expensive photo al
bum and waited expectantly.
I was very specific with my pictures. They included:
1. A good-looking man
2. A woman in a wedding gown and a man in a tuxedo
3. Bouquets of flowers (I'm a romantic)
4. Beautiful diamond jewelry (I rationalized that God loved David and S
olomon and they were two of the richest men who ever lived)
5. An island in the sparkling blue Caribbean
6. A lovely home
7. New furniture
8. A woman who had recently become vice-president of a large corporatio
n (I was working for a company that had no female officers. I wanted to
be the first woman vice-president in that company.)
About eight weeks later, I was driving down a California freeway, mindi
ng my own business at 10:30 in the morning. Suddenly a gorgeous red-and
-white Cadillac passed me. I looked at the car because it was a beautif
ul car. And the driver looked at me and smiled, and I smiled back becau
se I always smile. Now I was in deep trouble. Have you ever done that?
I tried to pretend that I hadn't looked. "Who me? I didn't look at you!
" He followed me for the next 15 miles. Scared me to death! I drove a f
ew miles, he drove a few miles. I parked, he parked . . . and eventuall
y I married him!
On the first day after our first date, Jim sent me a dozen roses. Then
I found out that he had a hobby. His hobby was collecting diamonds. Big
ones! And he was looking for somebody to decorate. I volunteered! We d
ated for about two years and every Monday morning I received a long-ste
mmed red rose and a love note from him.
About three months before we were getting married, Jim said to me, "I h
ave found the perfect place to go on our honeymoon. We will go to St. J
ohn's Island down in the Caribbean." I laughingly said, "I never would
have thought of that!"
I did not confess the truth about my picture book until Jim and I had b
een married for almost a year. It was then that we were moving into our
gorgeous new home and furnishing it with the elegant furniture that I
had pictured. (Jim turned out to be the West Coast wholesale distributo
r for one of the finest Eastern furniture manufacturers.)
By the way, the wedding was in Laguna Beach, California, and included t
he gown and tuxedo as realities. Eight months after I created my dream
book, I became the Vice-President of Human Resources in the company whe
re I worked.
In some sense this sounds like a fairy tale, but it is absolutely true.
Jim and I have made many "picture books" since we have been married. G
od has filled our lives with the demonstration of these powerful princi
ples of faith at work.
Decide what it is that you want in every area of your life. Imagine it
vividly. Then act on your desires by actually constructing your persona
l goal book. Convert your ideas into concrete realities through this si
mple exercise. There are no impossible dreams. And, remember, God has p
romised to give his children the desires of their heart.
Glenna Salsbury |
