As a female living in 2017, if people were to know that I’m still waiting to be rescued, I’d probably be shot, or stoned, or given a giant scarlet “P” to wear on my dress for “Pathetic”.

Being rescued is so yesterday.  Women don’t need to be rescued anymore – they can rescue themselves.

I often thought that rescuing myself sounded more cliché than being rescued by an actual prince.  Rescue myself…who wants to do that?  And what does that even mean?  And why do we want or even need to be rescued at all?

The reason why girls grow up believing they are going to be rescued is because that is what they are told starting at a very young age.  Thanks to childhood friends like Cinderella and Snow White, I truly did believe I was going to grow up and be rescued by my very own version of Prince Charming.  It was just a matter of time.

And then it was a matter of more time.  And even more time.  And…well…I’m still waiting.

Growing up, I really did think I was going to turn twenty-four and automatically be married with kids, happily raising my family in my dream house while juggling my career as an incredibly famous and wealthy published author.

So…I was a little off.

What am I saying?  I wasn’t even close.  And what’s even more ridiculous, nearly twenty years after passing my “rescue age”, I still secretly wish for that same darn fantasy…the same one I was told when I was five years old!

(Sometimes I’m allowed to switchout my scarlet “P” with a scarlet “D”…for “Delusional”.)

I feel like I’ve done everything I was supposed to do to attract my prince, including kissing more than my share of frogs.  (Yuck!)  I’m cute, intelligent, have a good sense of humor, I like sports and beer…  With that said, where the bleep is he?  Was he hit by a bus before we were to meet?  Did he fall into a well?  Did some other pathetic and delusional woman intercept him before he got to me?

I just don’t get it.  It’s not fair.  I’ve been waiting and waiting…again, where the BLEEP is he???

Which brings me back to the “rescuing myself” crap.  I guess it’s just something I’m going to have to do.  I’m going to have to rescue myself from a life of loneliness and despair…even though I still really wish some charming prince would do it for me.

I mean, people who rescue people are brave.  I’m not brave.  And if we’re getting technical, I’m not a princess either, so maybe I just didn’t qualify to be rescued, or be the one doing the rescuing.

If you were to ask me what fairy tale princess I most resemble, I’d have to say none.  If I had to choose a fictional character that would best describe me, although I’d love to say Cinderella, I think I’m more like Charlie Brown – yes, the Charlie Brown of Peanuts fame – just with a better hairline.  I came to this realization years ago while watching the 1965 classic, A Charlie Brown Christmas.   Charlie Brown is receiving psychiatric counseling from Lucy, who is trying to determine what exactly he’s afraid of.

Lucy:  Are you afraid of responsibility? If you are, then you have hypengyophobia.

Charlie Brown: I don’t think that’s quite it.

Lucy: How about cats? If you’re afraid of cats, you have ailurophasia.

Charlie Brown: Well, sort of, but I’m not sure.

Lucy: Are you afraid of staircases? If you are, then you have climacaphobia. Maybe you have thalassophobia. This is fear of the ocean, or gephyrobia, which is the fear of crossing bridges. Or maybe you have pantophobia. Do you think you have pantophobia?

Charlie Brown: What’s pantophobia?

Lucy: The fear of everything.

Charlie Brown: THAT’S IT!

And that pretty much sums me up.  How can someone afraid of everything rescue herself?  That’s the million-dollar question I hope to answer through my Forty Tale.

One thing I have figured out recently is that there is an actual rescue “factor”.  And the factor is, acceptance.  I know that sounds corny, but I am really starting to believe that acceptance of yourself is the true key to finding your Happily Ever After.  It may not help you snag a prince or become a renowned author, but it sure does make this crazy ride called life a little easier.

For now, I vow to rescue myself by accepting myself.  (That would be great on a tee shirt!)  And that’s all I really need to do.  BUT, if Prince Charming does make it out of the well or recovers from his horrific bus accident and is still available… please make sure to hit me up on Facebook, Instagram or LinkedIn!  I’m still waiting…