It's amazing how much love I have inside of me, yet none of it is for myself. I love my children to a depth I didn't believe existed. I love Justin more then I express, he totally deserves more than I give him. I love my parents with a suffocating fear of the day they won't be around on the other end of the phone. I love my Sister, her husband and two amazing children so much. My Aunts, Uncles, cousins, second cousins all have my love to call theirs. My friends that are always here for me. Even with thousands of miles between us, they never give up on me. But to love myself, I don't have it in me. It's just not there. I've spent lots of time in my own mind. Searching for myself if you will. And what I've found so far, I'm not a fan.
This dislike goes almost as far as hatred. I've not always been like this. I remember a time when I loved myself enough to take care of myself. I loved attention. I thrived on it. Selfies hadn't been invented yet but if they had, I would've mastered them. Now I hide behind the camera. Photographing other people, eternalizing their love for not only each other, but for themselves. It takes a certain amout of self love to agree to having your photos taken; to subject yourself to someone else's view.
If I said the things I say to myself out loud to another person, I would be turned over to the authorities for verbally abusing them. How did this happen to me? What have I done to deserve hearing these terrible things rolling in my inner monologue all day long?
Until today, I just accepted that this is how it is. How am I suppose to change? How do I just start learning to love myself? I know I've done pretty amazing things. I grew two amazingly wonderful children inside my body. A body I should worship, but that I don't respect or enjoy. Then I feel guilty for thinking things like that because there are so many people that would be so happy to have a fully functioning, healthy body. This goes deeper than disliking my mommy flabby body. I hate it. Every curve and crease, every stretch mark, every ripple of cellulite makes my mind scream "You are not worthy of love and affection! Why would anyone want to be seen with you?"
(I should have been so happy here. But I was so sad. I felt so unworthy of this beautiful creature.)
This is abuse. Plain and simple. This Mean Girl voice must be silenced. But I don't even know where to begin. I don't even know how I let it creep in so far. I must have been so busy trying to stay afloat in life that I never even noticed that it came in and took over.
My plan is to write down one thing a day that I like about myself. Anything. Something small even. And repeat to myself all day "I love ___ about myself". I'm also going to take 30 minutes to walk alone, and tell myself only positive things for those 30 minutes. I'll call it 30 minutes of self-loving.
I want to be happy again. I want to smile and not worry that someone is judging me for my laugh, the double chin I have always had. I want to play with my kids without reminding myself I'm too fat to get up off the floor unassisted. I'm going to do it for my kids, of course. But I'm going to do it for myself. I have to. This is a miserable way to live and I won't let it continue. I'm tired of feeling paralyzed. Tomorrow is a new day.
