On loving thyself, Part I

I've been doing a lot of thinking about how I got to where I am right now.

Aren't we all always contemplating our current position, it's exhausting.

Then this morning GMA had a segment on a new book that's out called "Dear Me," the book features letters written by various talking heads from many walks of life written to their 16 year old self. I was curious what I was saying back then, so I hit up my old LJ and found this:

"i don't know what my fears are. i don't know what my limits are. i don't know how i have control. i don't care. i don't care. i don't care. about anything. i think that might be a fear of mine. there isn't very much that i really care about. i care about leaving here. i care about not being home. i care about existing. i care about fearing something which is not tangible, and that is out of my control. i confuse how i should feel with how i actually feel. the last time i was passionate about something...i cant even remember. i cant remember having passion. my passion is running. my passion is disappearing. my passion is existing and non existent.

i feel like i am existing to be something forgotten. some tragedy. some sob story. i feel like i will be that person, 10 years from now, when its time for a high school reunion. people will say, "oh yeah, her.. "  i hate that my heart is completely wrecked. i hate my father for the things he said to me, and then pretends like it never happened. i am so scared that i am going to go on hating him, bitter, and something horrible is going to happen and i am never going to get over what he said. or how i felt, and how i feel. i cant look at him in the eyes. i cant even look at his face. just thinking about looking at someone dead in the eye, someone that thinks you are  worthless, or at least hated you enough for even a moment to tell you that you are worthless to your face, makes part of me want to break down. it makes me want to get in my car and keep driving, until i drive into oblivion. until my tires are bare and the tank is dry-- my eyes are bloodshot from being open for so long. every time i see him laugh, i get so angry. i don't understand how he can even bare a grin with all the awful things he has said. but then his laugh makes me love him again; i grew up loving the way my dad laughed. but i cant love someone who i am so bitter towards. the feeling that i have towards him is so burrowed, that i cant decide if it is disappointment, anger, sorrow, sadness, fury... i cant put a finger on how i want to feel about him. but every time i lay in my bed, i cant help but hear the echos in the walls of all the things that i am to him, you'd think I'd hear nothing at all since that is what I am to him. nothing."

-me at seventeen

Reading this completely broke my heart; therein lies so much truth and pain. Truth I'd never dare blurt out as an adult and pain that was and still is a huge part of my life to this day. I just can't seem to break free from the grips of my wretched past. I am so much stronger now, but I am also a lot more apathetic, desensitized.

Around the time that post was written, something major happened in my life- I tried to end it.

I don't mean to be blase when I say that, but how else to you tell the world you have that kind of past? Most of my recovery has consisted of complete and utter denial that I have a problem-- which works most days and makes me a complete weirdo/wreck the rest of the time. I live in this world where I am always trying to desensitize myself to wicked thoughts-- because that is the only way I can get out of bed some mornings. If you are desensitized you don't react, and not reacting to the wicked is the goal.

NOW, I don't think my method of functionality is for everyone-- but it is how I get by without medications, which seem to always make the problem worse. 

{Mostly meds make me incredibly unpredictable, which is more dangerous than being UN-medicated)

But that's just it, I am just getting by. And now I am not just getting by on my own account, I am reliant upon R for everything. Emotionally and financially I have not been an equal contributor. That's tough to admit, because it makes me feel really bad for R.. what did he do to get me? and furthermore what did I do to get him? 

There is some serious unfairness happening in the universe right now. He is awesome, and I can hardly manage to get out of my PJ's right now. Love is a funny thing because it really allows one to overlook many negatives about their partner, friend, family, etc. He really loves me, What does he see, that I don't? I've got to get it together, or I will destroy the greatest love I have ever experienced. He might turn a blind eye to weeks on end of inactivity; but weeks turn into years, and that will eventually amount to precious years lost to what?

Maybe love is the answer. Maybe it really is all you need. Maybe if we loved ourselves more we'd have the energy and capacity to make a difference in our own lives, in others and most importantly make a larger contribution to the world and universe at large.

As I write, The Beatles- Blackbird comes on. Seems like a good place to end.

"Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise"

Such an amazing song.

xo.

r