Category: self-love

I Was Wrong.

As a child, my parents would say hurtful things about my weight. They never flat-out said that I wasn’t beautiful or that I wasn’t worthy of love, but I took the words they did say and basically felt as if I heard them say I wasn’t beautiful and that I wasn’t worthy of love because of my size.

This became part of my identity at a very early age.

My entire identity wrapped itself around these false statements that I gave power to.

I imagine growing around these false statements like your body tissue forms and grows around a breast implant, or a bullet fragment, or a donated organ, or an injury.

They became a living, breathing, part of me.

They became true for me.

But, I was wrong.

So fucking wrong.

They were, and are, false statements.

There is no way that I am worth less than the person standing to my left and to my right anywhere on this earth. There is no way that I am not beautiful.

Today, I choose to give different statements power as I unwrap my identity around these false ideas I have carried about myself for over two decades.

I imagine the tissues dying off as their blood source is taken away.

Today, I made myself breakfast.

I packed my lunch for work. I did an entire skin-care routine.

I made my bed. I am going to go workout after a closing shift.

All this time I thought that I didn’t love myself, but I did.

I was just showing it with unhealthy coping mechanisms that didn’t look too much like love, but I think they did look like someone who was desperately trying to move forward while believing that they were less than.

It looked like a losing fight.

I did these things today as a healthy form of self-care and self-love.

I’m only able to do these things because I actively love myself and want to care for myself.

I am reinventing myself. I am leveling up.

Like a 2.0 version of myself.

I’m taking apart all of the false ideas and negative thoughts that I had about myself to find out who I really am.

I’m coming for all of the energies taken from me.

I’m focusing on turning all of the losses I took into wins.

I’m coming for all of the love I wasn’t given and giving it to myself.

As for weight-loss – I’m going with what feels good.

The idea of an ideal weight, I’m scrapping it.

When I was 16, 170 pounds was my happy space.

I have no fucking idea what my happy space is at 28.

I snatched my weight-loss board off of my closet door.

I ripped up the reward system that I wrote out for every 7.5 pounds down.

I’ll know my happy weight when I fucking get there.

I’m not rewarding myself for weight lost because I’m not going to tell myself that that’s the only reason I deserve to be rewarded.

I gave so much power to so many things that were so wrong.

I was so wrong about everything.

I realize that it is totally okay for an idea you had about yourself to not be true. It is okay for you to realize that it was total and utter bullshit. It’s okay to say you were wrong.

I feel

naked,

afraid,

nervous,

excited.

I’m having to step into who I really am now and it’s terrifying and it’s beautiful.

I could never truly be me because I was always carrying around the dead weight of the dead tissue with me. It weighed me down.

So much of me was wrapped up in lies.

Today, I am more me, than I ever was before.

Like – WILL THE REAL S PLEASE STAND UP?

I don’t know why the hardest person to forgive is yourself. Probably because you’re the only physical – living and breathing – entity on this earth who knows who you really are – you’re the only person who knows who you are at your core. You know every nook and cranny of your mind, heart, and spirit.

So, when you’ve let yourself down, it is like a million hearts breaking.

But the first step to get to the point of forgiving yourself – is to acknowledge the wrongdoing.

Cheryl Strayed wrote in the book Wild –

“What if I forgave myself? I thought. What if I forgave myself even though I’d done something I shouldn’t have? What if I was a liar and a cheat and there was no excuse for what I’d done other than because it was what I wanted and needed to do? What if I was sorry, but if I could go back in time I wouldn’t do anything differently than I had done? What if I’d actually wanted to fuck every one of those men? What if heroin taught me something? What if yes was the right answer instead of no? What if what made me do all those things everyone thought I shouldn’t have done was what also had got me here? What if I was never redeemed? What if I already was?”

This quote always stuck with me and I finally figured out why.

Because I was so very fucking wrong, but I could still be forgiven.

I did what I did out of survival.

Emotionally eating. Being hyper-critical of myself. The men I dated. The friends I kept. The money I spent.

I did what I did because it was the only thing I knew.

But I can still be forgiven.

So, I forgive myself today.

Because I didn’t know better than, but I do now.

I always loved myself, just not in the way that was best for me.

But it was the only way I knew how to love then.

Today, I know better.

Today, I am forgiven.

I imagine that flowers are now growing in the places where the tissue died off.

–S.

Party of One.

Several years ago.

Loneliness comes from not knowing your own heartbeat.

You should sit with yourself and your own thoughts.

How can you be lonely when there are so many adventures to be had in your mind?

Some of the greatest moments that I had this year were by myself. Eating out by myself for the first time. Going to the movies by myself and not caring who was wondering when my date or friends might show up or if I really had the balls to come alone.

Working out by myself.

I fell back in love with myself this year – and it’s the greatest relationship that I’ve ever had. Finding comfort in my own skin.

When’s the last time it was just you and you had the best conversation you’ve had in a long time?

–S.

Do you have these in a size wide?

I’d hated their width and length most of my life. They were anything, but feminine in my eyes. I never got to be obsessed with high-heels or sandals, the way some woman are – because they were so difficult to find.

Now I realize how far they’ve carried me.

How they never failed me.

No matter the circumstance.

–S

50 Shades of Me.

I’m not wearing pants. I have lacy panties on sporting holes on both sides because I’m anything but careful. Always getting dressed in a rush or running late.

My hair is greasy and lays in a fallen bun on the side of my head, not even the top, and my face needs to be washed.

I’m wearing a crop top yellow Wu-Tang shirt that is flecked with oil from the pesto pasta I ate earlier and no bra.

I am anything but flawless.

Which is why I have been avoiding writing a list of things I love about myself all week. I just figured that I wouldn’t have much to say, but I’m doing it as a practice of self-love.

I assume I’ll have ten nice things to say. I can manage ten.

I imagine myself opening the Word document and staring at the flashing cursor as I struggle to think of likeable qualities, I can’t even touch any loveable ones. I imagine feeling embarrassed as ten and twenty and thirty minutes pass and I’ll blank by five likeable qualities.

But I surprise myself. The loveable qualities pour out of me, until I’m up to fifty. I keep thinking, okay, that’s probably it. But then there’s another, and another, and I don’t even touch the likeable ones.

Because I’m focused on the loveable.

Focused on the love.

Focused on the self.

Focused on me.

–S.

Just one ticket? Yes, just one.

So, I’m taking the time to date myself.

To court myself.

To become my own best friend.

Again.

To re-learn the song of my own heartbeat.

The hooks, the verses, the chorus, and even the background vocals.

Somewhere along the way – I forgot. I forgot that this was a forever job.

That the song of my heartbeat was and always had been the soundtrack of my summer.

Every season after that.

And of my life.

I’m humming it now and I don’t have to share my popcorn with anyone.

–S.

I’m Sorry, S.

An overdue apology to myself.

S,

If I was only able to tell you one very last thing, I would simply tell you that I am sorry and I know that you would understand why. I’ve been so very wrong. I’ve spent my entire life putting you last in hopes of making others happy, and where did it get me? It got me here. I was going to write several different letters to various people, several different truths, but I just want to write to you. I want to put you first because I always put you last. From the very bottom of my heart and from the deepest part of my soul, I am so fucking sorry. I can only hope that you can forgive me and that I can repair all of the damaged pieces. I hope you still trust me with your heart and I promise to never fail you again. For twenty-seven years, I overlooked you, I deemed you as less than, someone unlovable, I let you disappear and fade into the background. What can I say, except I’m sorry for every minute that I let you believe that?

I think of the bump on your nose, your blackheads, your hairy face, your stomach rolls, your stretch marks, your bumps, your lumps, your curves, your scars, your acne, the red marks on your face, your chubby hands, your big wide feet, the dark spots between your legs where you chafed because your thighs rub together, your saggy breasts, your flat ass, all of the things that I tore apart in the mirror to make you believe you were less than. All of these things come together to make a breathtaking human being. They come together to make you.

I think of the times you walked, talked, laughed, and sang. I think of how you healed a broken wrist, cuts, wounds, and bruises. I think of how you take care of me – how you bathe me, you feed me, you put me to sleep. I think of how you see, hear, smell, touch, and taste the world. I think of how you make sure I breathe. I think of how you make sure blood and oxygen travel throughout my entire body. How you fight disease and infection. How you fire all of my neurons. How you power all of my organs. How your entire life basically revolves around protecting me. How you continued to love me when I tried to convince you that you were unlovable.

I think of the broken hearts you lived through from friends and lovers alike. How you love to make others laugh, how you love to inspire them to be their best selves. How you love hard. How you love true and honest despite the love given to you. How you never folded when others did. How you provide friendship unparalleled in others. I think of your kindness. Your intelligence. Your strength. Your work ethic. How protective you are about what you love. How you bounced back from failure. How you never tried to be too prideful about your successes.

You blow me away.

You always show up for me. Always. Even when I don’t show up for you. You’re my greatest friend, my first real love, my soul mate and the love of my life. The one person in this whole world, this whole universe, who really does know all of my secrets and the happenings in my head and still has the ability to love me despite everything I’ve ever done and said.

I don’t think I’ve ever said it, but I love you. I’m in love with you all that you are.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I would say it for every second of your life that you couldn’t feel it if it would change something up this point, but there are no take backs in this life. All you can do is try again, hope for the best, and do better in the future.

So, I promise to love you every day moving forward. I will show up for you. I will not fail you. My love will not waver. My love is stronger than all of the forces in this life that choose to fight against it. Nothing will vanquish it, not even death. Because wherever we go after this life, I will love you there too. I will love you after this lifetime, and the next. And the next. And the next. I will love you.

–S.

Undeniable.

You already love yourself. You just forgot that you do.

You’re the only person who shows up for you daily.

You put yourself to sleep. You bathe yourself. You face the cold world daily. You rise in the morning despite your exhaustion. You feed yourself. You hydrate yourself. You pick yourself up off the ground when you’re crying. You wipe your own tears. You walk through the pain. But now, fall IN love with yourself.

We can’t change any of what happened.

It’s all done.

We can only change today.

But that’s okay – it’s all part of our story.

I know you’re tired, but I need you to hold on just a little while longer. We’re almost there. Stretch out your hands. I can almost feel it with my fingertips.

Happiness. Here. Now.

It’s right there over the horizon.

We’ve traveled so long to get here. We’re almost there. We’re on our way.

I wanted to introduce you to someone, or rather reintroduce you to someone you met a long time ago,

You.

I know you tried to deny YOU, but you are UNDENIABLE.

–S.

You’re Poetry.

You’ve never really seen yourself.

You’ve seen yourself in the mirror, yes.

But you haven’t REALLY seen yourself.

You haven’t seen how your face lights up when you laugh. You haven’t seen yourself smile when you hear a nasty song for the first time. You haven’t seen how peaceful you look when you sing. You haven’t seen yourself dreaming. Or sleeping. Or how you look when you orgasm. You haven’t seen how you look at someone you love. You haven’t seen how you look when you eat your favorite things. You haven’t seen how euphoric you are at a concert for one of your favorite artists when you’re singing along with the rest of the crowd.

You haven’t seen yourself writing your poetry. You haven’t seen the sense of peace that falls over you when you’re paining. You haven’t seen yourself reading a really good book. You haven’t seen yourself completely free while crying and laughing. You haven’t seen yourself watching your favorite scene in your favorite movie. You haven’t seen yourself holding someone you love.

So, how can you really tell me that you’re not beautiful?

You’re poetry.

You are breathtaking.

You are nothing less than breathless.

–S.