Kissing Frogs

I love a good story. I always have.  I especially love a tale with a happy ending.  The more magical, the more epic, and the more fantastic – the better I love them. I’m a sucker for a hero’s tale. I have many heroes, from Wesley and his “As you wish,” to a Goonie that never says, “Die!”  The Author of Life sometimes creates great tales and woeful tragedies. I’m trying to figure out which one I’m living.

My first love was Superman.  Watching that mild-mannered, kind, gentle man rip his shirt open and become this brave savior - won my heart.  Batman was the ultimate misunderstood bad boy, and Jesus walked on water and defied death.  Within my personal tragic story, my soul cried out to be saved. But no savior swooped in and saved the day. I learned to save myself.

I am a Princess, and always have been, only I haven’t always been able to see it. What’s so funny is that I used to tell my brother’s a story about having been kidnapped and that someday my real parents, a king and queen, would one day find me, rescue me from my hell, and take me home.  The royal highnesses never came for me, but I learned to rescue myself. I learned to change my stars and create the life I wanted to live.

I’ve always believed in magic, believed in faith, believed in the supernatural – though I’ve never really seen any of those things manifest in reality.  I always made wishes when I closed my eyes. I always prayed to the God of the Universe. I always felt the presence of an angel in my darkest moments. I never got my miracles or displayed the magnificent power over science and nature. I never had a wish magically come true, but I learned to make wishes and dreams come true for myself through hard work and dedication. Perhaps that was the true miracle.

The stories of love are the best ones of all. I have a lot of love in my life. I love my children and grandbaby beyond expression. I love my god. I love my family, my friends, and my pets. I love my passions. I love humanity. I love myself most of all.  But, the one thing I haven’t been able to capture is that GREAT romantic, magnificent, fairy-tale love. That’s not true.  I had it once before, very briefly, but a Somalian bullet took that dream from me. I had my Prince, but I didn’t get my happily-ever-after. I feel like Rose on that floating door – forced to let go of my greatest love and promising to never let go of the dream we dreamt together. I never did. I lived those dreams James and I made together, because also like Rose – there was a life full of adventure waiting to be lived AFTER Jack/James.

Of course, within that life I promised to live, I’ve kissed a few frogs, but they never turned into my Prince. While each relationship I’ve had was beautiful in its own way, it was ever only PART of the dream, part of the story, and it only filled part of me. I had one of the best marriages of anyone I knew, full of love and respect – but no passion. I’ve had one of the hottest love affairs so full of passion I burned inside, but I did not have the love and respect. I’ve had romances and nightmares, but no happily-ever-after. With each one, I’ve learned more and more what I want and don’t want in my Prince, what I need and don’t need in my life, and what kind of crown I want to sit upon my own head.

I don’t need a superhero to save me. I don’t need a valiant warrior to rescue me. I don’t need a Prince to make my dreams and wishes come true. I want a partner that will love me just as I am and not want to change me. I want a friend that I can share all that I am and they not feel they need to fix me. I want a lover that wants to touch me, and kiss me, and hold me, and listen to my silly stories, and encourage me when I’m down, and push me when I want to give up, and comfort me when I’m scared, protect me when I’m in danger, and be someone I can count on, trust, and not be afraid to give my whole heart.

All the fairy tales and epic fantasies tell you about the journey that leads up to kissing frogs and finding a Prince.  What about when you find one?  What happens next? I don’t know that part of the story. I’m afraid – because I want the happy-ever-after – but I’ve never seen it. Its standing right in front of me, but my hands literally shake when I dare to even think if it’s possible – for me. I think it must be a mistake. I’m never the Princess that catches the Prince and gets to keep him. I’ve always been too much or not enough. Too soft or too hard, but never just right. There’s always been big bad wolves in sheep’s clothing coming to blow down every house I try to build.  But, could the glass slipper really fit this time? Could his kiss break the curse of death from my poisoned lips?

If I’ve learned anything from all my fantasy and fairy tales, and stories of superheroes, is that my answer isn’t going to come from someone else. My happy-ever-after is something I’m going to have to choose for myself. I’m going to have to believe in it, trust in it, and grab it with all my soul and strength.  Just as I rescued myself, and saved myself, and believed in myself, and loved myself – I will have to choose this too. I’m afraid because I’ve fallen and failed so many times before and am riddled with their scars and filled with their pain when I close my eyes.

I could fail again. But, if I do – I know how to pick myself back up.  I’ve recently kissed a frog, and he’s become a Prince. I’ve been rubbing my eyes, wondering if he’s real or just an illusion. Only time will tell and only the Author knows how the whole story truly ends. This is a new chapter. I hope it’s a good one.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

My Own Fairy Tale

I can do so many amazing things. I’ve accomplished countless great things in my life already and have the ability, talent, and drive to be successful at many more. I never run from a fight, I stand up for who I am and what I want, and I try to be as fair as I possibly can in an unfair world. So, why am I so scared? Why do my hands literally shake at the thought of exposing my fiery heart and letting someone in?

I don’t lack for self-esteem. I have come to love myself greatly. I’ve learned to appreciate myself for the rare beauty that I am, respect myself for my opened mind, and know without doubt I’m worth fighting for. I’ve learned to love and appreciate the simplistic beauty of a soul, to see beyond masks, and choose to love anyway – just as they are, not trying to change them to fit into an old fantasy or idea of who they should be. But deep inside there is still this scared little beast who doesn’t believe she’s capable of being loved, of being chosen, that the glass slipper will fit, or the curse be broken with a simple kiss.

Here’s the hard part. I’m not without love. I am already very much loved. I have some good friends who love all the complicated mess that makes me who I am. They’re in my corner. They believe in me. They see me… all of me, my true self, and love me anyway. I know if they could, they’d wave their magic wands and transform my life into the dream I desire, but they can’t. They’re not fairy godmothers, mice who turn into men, pumpkins who transform into carriages to take me directly to my Prince Charming. In my world, I have to make my own damned clothes, hike all the way to the castle, declare my right to be there no matter what anyone else says, ignore all the stares and judgments from all the snobs because I’m different, walk with my head high among the whispers, and keep telling myself that I’m worth it and somewhere among all these frogs there is a Prince just for me.

It’s hard attending this ball. I’ve witnessed time and again other princesses kiss their frogs and have them transform into beautiful princes. So far, all the princes I’ve kissed have remained frogs. While our meeting, conversation, and dance has been beautiful and even magical, it hasn’t been enough to break the spell. Yet I still hope. Not that a kiss will save me or wake me from a deep sleep… but that it will set me on fire and I unfurl my wings and soar into the heavens. What prince ever loves the dragon?

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray