Personal Narrative †Complications of Becoming a Woman Essay -- Person

Personal Narrative – Complications of Becoming a Woman My mother never told me the complications of becoming a woman in this world. Maybe she thought I was strong enough to figure them out on my own. Or quite possibly, she couldn't tell me, because she never really knew how to face the complications herself. She never told me how to dress a certain way in order to keep up with the latest fashions. She never told me how to wear my hair in a way that the other girls wouldn't make fun of me for. She never even told me how to apply makeup to my adolescent face. I don't think she ever knew how to put it on herself. My mother was always a simple woman. A brush of mascara, a touch of the gloss, and she was done. My mother never told me that being in love does not mean sitting by the boy of your dreams at a high school football game every Friday night. And that the boy of your dreams never really remains the boy of your dreams unless, of course, you don't know any better. How was I supposed to know? She also never said that I would fall "in love" over and over again until I met the right "one." And when I met "the one," chances are he wouldn't be it, and I would have to go through the whole process again. Mother never told me the process would take weeks, months, or even years. She never told me this would be painful. Because if I knew that falling in love would eventually hurt so much, I would have probably tried at all costs to avoid the pain. It never brought me strength, but has formed a callus around my heart. You know this story just as well as I do. I am sure it has happened to you. The characters might have different names, and the setting most likely took place somewhere else, but in the end, it's all driven by ... ...etween true love and the need to be loved. I needed to be loved. I needed to feel loved, so I stuck with him until I realized what I was doing. I had never truly loved him. He was only satisfying my need for security and hope. Once he failed to do this, our relationship could not survive. After the relationship ended, it took me a while to learn to trust again. I found it much easier to trust no one than to fail by trusting the wrong person. Over time, I realized I wasn't being fair to myself. I would have to learn to trust in order to let people back into my life. How else was I to find "the one?" My mother never told me the complications of becoming a woman in this world. She never told me that it's not necessarily important to find "the one" true love in your life. She didn't tell me about the longing, the grieving, or the pain. She didn't have to, I guess.