I currently have HARDCORE rap BLASTING. It’s incredibly difficult to type while I’m listening to “b**** ass hoe” every four seconds. But I NEED it. You know how some people (most people) go to yoga or meditate to clear their heads? I blast metal or rap and SCREAM. And when I was able to drive, I used to buy a pack of cigarettes (which no no no NO NO I do not smoke anymore), I WOULD BLAST music that just makes you want to punch a hole through the wall, and I would drive fast down the highway belting along to the music. French inhaling the GOOD, exhaling the bullshit. All of it. Do you know how much bullshit is sitting in my chest now? Do you know the smoke consuming my lungs? No? Pretend you’re me for a second. And perhaps, everything I’m describing is incredibly fitting and you might actually very well be me. Well…close enough.
So here you are. You’re the person who gives yourself entirely to someone. To anyone. Everyone You’d offer your soul to the devil just out of the kindness of your heart. So naturally, when it comes to dating, you fall hard and fast. You give them every part of you, and because you’re so good, you expect the same kind of goodness in return. You expect them to devote themselves to you. Which in reality, is unhealthy. Independence is incredibly important in a relationship…so balance is critical yes…but you catch my drift. Even if you received HALF of the love you gave, you’d be ecstatic. You’d feel worthy. Because yes, you are still seeking validation. You are still craving attention. You are still letting men determining your worth. And you hate yourself for that. It becomes a vicious cycle. You so badly want to practice what you preach. Telling everyone to go easy on themselves. To be gentle with themselves, yet as the music grows louder, you grow angrier.
But sometimes there is light. Sometimes there are full days when you begin to grow. Really GROW. You can almost feel it physically. The way you did as a child when your legs would painfully stretch like thick elastic. But in this case, it’s the best kind of pain. Your growth spurt means that you are learning. Developing. It means that you are becoming the person you need to be. The person who loves themselves. You’ve had a few of those days recently. Maybe more than a few. Yes, you have your moments where it feels as if you are slipping again, but you’ve learned it’s temporary. You know you’ll come back.
But today you fell. You broke every limb and you’re afraid you’ll never be able to walk again. It wasn’t because of the weight of his words that impaled you like daggers. It wasn’t the content that surprised you. It was the reoccurring thought of, will I ever be good enough? Here you are again, holding your legs to your chest as your head falls in your lap and you wonder if you are deserving of love. You keep asking yourself why you care so much about love and you grow angry with yourself as you realize that this is a fantasy that needs to stop being chased. “I was in love with my ex girlfriend throughout our entire relationship.” You didn’t want to cry after he said that because a part of you knew he just said it to hurt you (or at least that was a big reason), and another part of you knew it all along. The most ironic part, you were in love with yours too. You always will be. So you couldn’t be upset right? You couldn’t allow yourself to be upset.
You repeat to yourself “I am worthy. I am successful. I am wonderful. I am beautiful.” Fleeting reminders that don’t last nearly as long enough as you need them to. You wonder if you’ll ever fall in love with yourself. You wonder if you will ever be able to practice what you preach to the fullest extent.
You wonder if you’ll find someone who truly loves you. Flaws and all. You’ll question everything. Every single thing. Past relationships. Things people have promised you. The way he looked at you. The way he said your name. When he called you beautiful, did he even mean it? Was any of it ever true? But you recite those affirmations again. And you pick yourself up off the ground. Still suffering from a lesser, but still severe, pain and you say, “it’s temporary. I will come back.” But this time you add something. You say, “…and I will come back stronger.”