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Once upon a time there was a young (at heart) woman named Red Writing Hood. Now Red had quite a bit of life experience, some good, some not so good, some downright icky! As she ventured on her way to her Grandmother’s house, she did so with a heavy heart, a feeling of isolation and extremely low self-esteem. But she was excited too! She had recently found a new path to her Grandmother’s house and a new basket to carry her goodies in.As she was traveling down the newly found path, she ran into Mr. Sheep. She showed Mr. Sheep her new project, a blog (neatly bundled in her basket). Mr. Sheep was attentive and appreciative of her blog, as well as her HNT photos and he told her so. This made Red very happy. She needed to know that Mr. Sheep liked her, not just for her brain, but for her physical beauty too!
Red and Mr. Sheep ventured off the beaten path and had some interesting conversations. It seemed Mr. Sheep was interested in seeing private pictures of Red’s more creative side, and he had some special requests. Red thought she and Mr. Sheep had developed a trusting friendship on their discovery walks, and agreed to show Mr. Sheep a little bit more than she had previously shown anyone else. She provided Mr. Sheep with his requests only after he gave his word that he would share them with no one. Red was quite appreciative of the attention from Mr. Sheep and wanted to please him. Mr. Sheep let her know that he was very pleased.
Although Red traveled the path quite frequently on her way to Grandmother’s house, it was a long time before she saw Mr. Sheep again for any length of time. There were glimpses here and there, but nothing substantial since she had satisfied his special requests. When Mr. Sheep stopped her a few weeks later, he was quite angry. He found out that, not only was he the subject in one of Red’s blog posts, but what Red said wasn’t, in his opinion, very nice. Although Mr. Sheep had given Red permission to include his words in her blog, without concern, he had now changed his mind.
Mr. Sheep began to change right before Red’s eyes. She could see that what was once fluffy soft wool was turning into coarse, brown hair. What was once a gentle “Baahhhh” was now a gnarly “GRRRRR.” And what was once a safe place to venture off the beaten path was now a scary, dark stand of decaying, lifeless trees. Mr. Sheep had turned into a big, bad wolf and was trying to lure Red into the darkness!Red tried ignoring the big, bad wolf when she was on her way to Grandmother’s, but no matter how hard she tried, he would follow her on the path, nipping at her heels. She knew that she had upset him, and even made a retraction in her blog, but the big, bad wolf claimed that wasn’t enough. Not only was he going to continue nipping at her heels, he was going to publish a new blog to show the world what a bad, bad woman Red really was. He was going to strip away her Writing Hood and share those pictures he had asked for, and that Red had provided. Not only would he publish them, but he was going to share them with Red’s Grandmother! He was going to go back on his word.
Red knew that she had made a big mistake – she had done something she should have never done - but she couldn’t take it back. It never occurred to her that Mr. Sheep was anything but the fluffy, soft and warm creature that she had first met on the path. All of the things she knew she needed to look for were there – a 3+ year blog of his own, contact information on the tag clipped to his ear, and the foundation of an off-the-beaten-path friendship. But she was wrong – very wrong – and the big, bad wolf, in Mr. Sheep’s clothing, was never going to let her forget that.
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You might think the moral of this story is never trust a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but you would be very wrong. You see, Red had no control over the wolf’s behavior, only her own. The moral of this story is NEVER allow your self-esteem, isolation or heavy heart get so overwhelming that you are willing to do just about anything for approval – NEVER. Reach out to someone and tell them your story, make an appointment to talk to a counselor, cry and scream, but never – EVER – sell your soul for a little artificial praise.
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