Someone asked me a few weeks ago, "how do you even start loving yourself ?"
I was like "well, hmmm, ummm". I finally said, "You just start."
Needless to say, that really made me stop and reflect for a while. How did my journey to self love start? How did I become to be. All anyone really sees or knows of me is that I'm brave. and strong and independent.
I'm secure and confident to a fn fault. I promote individuality and self love, right?
And I am.. I'm all of those things to a fault most of the time..
Not one person REALLY knows what it took for me to get here let alone believes that I wasn't always this way.
So yea, I sat there contemplating the meaning of life as I burn our dinner..
Well, the first thing that I ever decided to do was to go to therapy. I did this in my first marriage, late 20's, because my husband thought there was something wrong with me. I did too honestly. lol. I mean, I wasn't happy with how my life was going. I didn't like how my marriage was going or not going rather.
I was convinced I needed help to be happy. I mean, i was married, with beautiful children.
I did need help, right. At least, that's what he had convinced me of; that I was the problem. That I wanted too much out of life. He convinced me that there wasn't anything else out there to reach for. Regardless of the fact that our lives were stagnant. The two of us never changed.
He just didn't want anything else. Still doesn't either from what I can see.
So yea, naturally, the people pleaser in me, did what I was told and sought out a therapist. lol makes me chuckle thinking back about it now.
As I roll my eyes, remembering that conversation. Of course, he didn't need to go to therapy. Our marriage was fine. That is, as long as I was letting him have sex with me every other day, our marriage just fine. Our lives had become mechanical. Everyday for 8 years, we did the exact same thing. All 5 of us lived in the same 2 bedroom rental.
Because he was fine and happy and wanted absolutely nothing else in life.. "Fat and Happy", he used to say. I was the only thing wrong in that situation so I should be the only one to have to go. To be fair, therapy wouldn't have fixed him anyway lol And to be completely honest, therapy doesn't work unless you work.
I mean, think about it. The amount of energy, effort and empathy it takes for a random stranger to dive into your psyche and diagnose you with some sort of emotional disorder is fn ridiculous to me; and realistically they are all just as fucked up as we are lol. So yea, if you don't know how to help yourself, then therapy is a good place to start. But in reality, self love is a mind set. You have to change the way you think in order to change the way you think. It's really as simple as difficult can be. lol.
Here's what I did.
I started seriously journaling. I was born a writer by birth right. Ever since I could remember, my real father spent the majority of his free time awake typing away in his office. So, naturally, I was writing as early as I was able to - mostly for his approval and acceptance but nevertheless. It comes naturally to me and I find it easier to say things in written form as oppose to physical confrontation. Yea, I know. I'm working on it lol.
Anyway, I was always writing about something or another. Sadly, I've either lost all of my notebooks and journals during moves or, well, hell, I couldn't tell you how many notepads, journals and diaries I've had to throw away over the years over a dude. I eventually just started writing emails and saving them in the draft. I have some that are 10 years old even. Going back through everything to create this blog is just fn crazy to me. I was such a mess and all over the place then. I wish I had known her then as me now. lol I probably couldn't tell her anything either tho lmao.
It wasn't until about seven years ago that I decided to get serious about my journaling and turn it into a blog as a resource for others in hopes that it helps them gain the strength and courage to do the same thing - love yourself.
That's when it really started to happen for me. The power of writing all that shit down, crying about it, feeling it, really does heal it. I talk about things now and reread things now and I don't cry or feel any sort of way about the memories that used to paralyzed me from my past. The only thing I feel is gratefulness. I'm grateful that I learned from it. I'm grateful for the journey and the person it made me today. I'm proud of who and what I've become for myself - by myself. And ultimately, I am confident that my daughter will be a strong successful leader in her community because I made a choice to break a generational cycle.
I've come across some draft emails that are half complete, some with just one sentence, some are full blown opinions of why marriage is stupid.. lmao. I remember those days.. Some are just rantings of a broken little girl wondering whats it all for. And some, well, some make absolutely no sense - I was probably smoking a joint during those lol.
So now, as I finish one of my very first ever self love journey journal entries for publication; I bare my soul to the world in hopes that just one of you take something from it and START your journey.
Disclaimer: This is my blog - so feel free to fuck right off if you don't like it. I'm trying to heal my emotional traumas and wounds - I apologize in advance if you don't like how my memories and feelings make you feel - but thats on you. That's on you to heal ;)
Thanks for reading!
Ugh, I'm immediately flooded with memories and twinges of hurt, happiness, guilt, remorse, sadness - all of which emerge from the depths in which I had kept them. A lot of emotions comes through as I begin to form this post after all those years ago, maybe I'm not healed from them after all.
Just as this little post I'm writing - starting is really truly the hardest part. The hardest part of it all is facing it - facing the fact that you are a fucked up beautiful disaster. It's hard to face those feelings and emotions that bind you, restrict you and ultimately consume you.
It's difficult to commit to being a better version of yourself. It's hard as hell to admit that you have issues and need healing. It's even fucking harder, dealing with them and healing from them - even as I write this today - it's still fn hard as hell lol.
To be completely honest - it's been really fn hard. lol
Trust me when I say, it has taken me almost ten years in total to finish this particular piece.
I just haven't been ready to finish it I guess; and to be completely honest, I'm not really comfortable finishing it now, but I am ready to level up from it and start something new.
Ok (breathes) I'm just going to jump right in and START at the beginning - because that's were it starts right.
I've spent my entire life up until this point not feeling like I ever mattered to anyone - not my mother, not my real father, not my grandmother, not my family, and most certainly not my boyfriends and/or husbands. Not one of them - not one fn person in my life has truly ever cared about me or for me.
Not one of them cared about ME as an individual. Not one of them cared about what I had to say, or how I felt or what I wanted. No one supported my goals or dreams or ideas. No one seemed to really "want" me to begin with, let alone fight to keep me or show me real unconditional love and acceptance. Not one of them accepted me for who I truly was or wanted to be and I certainly wasn't "handed" the tools and/or resources to become that person either.
I spent a lot of my childhood alone, fending for myself. I remember eating canned spaghetti sauce and toast. My mom was somewhere fulfilling her newest whimsical dream or fad. I can only remember a handful of times she was actually there for me and it usually was when I was severely injured and even then, I only remember a few times. My brother and I felt more of an inconvenience than anything.
She never came to one single softball game or gymnastics meet. She used to drive me to the next town to take gymnastics lessons but I definitely felt like it was an interruption to her life and I always bought her McDonald's with the money I earned from the private gymnastic lessons I was teaching. She eventually stopped paying for my lessons and didn't drive me anymore. I took on teaching the mini class at the club so I ended up paying for them myself. I was 13 maybe.
As soon as I could drive, I was working at Long John Silvers, going to school, teaching gymnastics, paying for my own school clothes, gas, car insurance, pager (back then lol) I was literally just 16 years old.
I was making my own money from about the age of twelve. I would go to Amway functions with my step-dad and babysit all the kids in their group. I'd come home with like $200+ for a weekend. I worked at a burnt up match box of a video store across the street from me at the age of 14-15. I used to take the owner's stash of quarters and raid the little vending machine he had in there. I was starving most days.
I remember one time, my mother refused to buy milk because we had goats that were producing milk. She'd milk them, pasteurize it on the stove and put in the frig. It was terrible. Reflecting back on it, that seemed to be the theme of my little life then.
I only remember one birthday during my childhood and I only remember that there are pictures from my friends I had invited. I made my own plans that year with my neighbor friends. lol I don't remember seeing my mother at our house but I'm sure she was - off in her own little world somewhere cultivating magic maybe.
Ok, so, my mom and real dad divorced when I was 3-6 months oldish. He remarried a woman with 2 kids and they had 2 more together. I only saw them on an occasional Christmas break and a few weeks in the summer. I don't remember ever getting a birthday card. I do, however, remember my dad used to call me every week or so - I don't remember when that stopped. I also remember my dad sending me a stuff Sesame Street Big Bird once when I was 5 or 6 maybe. I'm surprised he knew the address of where we were living at the time. I honestly, don't remember how he gave it to me.
My mom met and married my step-dad when I was 4. He was in the navy and back home on leave visiting for a couple weeks. He would be reporting to the naval base in Charleston, North Carolina a few weeks after they had met and then deployed to sea for the following six months.. My mom knew him less than two weeks and married him. She may have stuck around our current town during his deployment but I don't remember much. I remember, my mom leaving me with a neighbor that I didn't know there in Charleston while they went on their honeymoon or something. I don't even remember where they went. I know I was alone and 4 years old, sitting on a new front porch crying because I was alone and hungry and helpless.
I don't even remember how that day ended - that's all I can remember of it.
(This is a good time to take a break lol - I wouldn't come back to this part for about a year.)
Little did I know then when I started this entry that this was actually my second childhood trauma that shaped my abandonment wounds.
I do remember something about my father contesting the move and came to court even, but I don't remember where that was or anything else about it. I can't really remember much from my childhood and what I do remember consists of my grandmother and aunt (but we'll get to that in another entry).
I do remember somebody calling social services on my mother and her taking my brother and I to my great aunt's house.. I don't remember where she lived at the time North Carolina maybe. She made the best mashed potatoes. lol pretty sure that's what started my starch obsession with their golden goodness. LMAO
Now, don't get me wrong. I love my mom and she's a strong, cool, self-driven woman. She knows a lot of shit about a lot of shit. I appreciate her and value the amount of knowledge she has accumulated. She's a good woman to have in your corner if you need her. We've come a long way with our relationship but only because of me.
She just didn't know how to mother and didn't really seem interested in learning. I never saw her hold a baby or help other children. She was very cold and closed off - especially as the years went on. All I know is, she did the best she could with what she knew and she didn't know what she was doing anymore than any of us do. I don't blame her and I'm certainly at peace with it all now. But it's true when they say hurt people, hurt people.
For example, when my step dad and mom separated, my mom was a mess. I don't really understand why tho at the time. I grew with the impression that she didn't want him. Hell, she didn't want anyone. She wanted to be left alone most of the time and seemed completely content with that. The only time she wanted to converse with any of us was when she needed something. Honestly, I don't think she "REALLY" liked or wanted anyone. That's just how she was. I imagine it had something to do with her own childhood traumas that she's never faced or healed from.
So, anyway, they separated when I was 17 maybe.. (I'm not really sure exactly and I'm certainly not asking her about it. That will just create unwanted drama and her trying to defend herself and her actions and honestly, I don't care.. I don't want to hear any of it. Plus she'll just blame my step-dad and then I'll have to listen to all of that again.)
I wanted nothing more than to escape that god forsaken burnt up match box of a house and break free from the chains of East Tennessee mindsets.
So, as soon as I was informed of the impending marriage, I immediately wanted to live with my step-dad.
(For lots of reasons but because he's been the only stable person in my life. He's been the only one there for me. He came to my gymnastic meets and drove me to where I needed to go. I'm thankful asf for him because without him, there's no telling where I'd be today. He's been my dad since I was 4 and still my dad to this very day. He did remarry and have two kids of his own. They also adopted a daughter and his wife has a son from a previous marriage. They are a happy big family and they all welcome me and my kids as one of their own whenever we are there.)
After I realized that I wasn't going to be able to live with my step-dad, I asked my real dad if I could come live with him up north. He said he didn't have enough room for me with everyone they had in their house. It didn't matter what the reason was, all I heard was, he didn't want me either.
Finally, I convinced my step-dad to talk to his parents (my step-grandparents) to let me come up north and live. Somehow or another my step-dad convinced my mom to allow it - I think he had to pay her or at least some kind of monetary bargaining took place. All I really know is that my step-dad and grandpa paid for my school lunches, books, and school clothes; and I wouldn't see or hear from my mother until I graduated high school a year later.
The point here is this:
Children begin their lives without any perceived notions or learned behaviors dumped unconsciously on to them by their parents and other people around them.
Imagine how the world would be if we raised emotionally healthy children.
I will tell you that, because of my learned behaviors, I have unconsciously chosen to surround myself with people that have made me feel alone, unwanted, and neglected since the day I was able to choose for myself. I just didn't know any better at the time. None of us know any better until we finally know better.
The fastest way to knowing better and doing better is to take a good hard look at your childhood and see what kind of unhealed childhood trauma you can stir up. Once you are self aware enough to understand them, it's easier to change them.
It's soo fn hard to push past those feelings of not being worthy, let alone even considering the notions that I could be any of these things. These things are what create the fear and insecurities that consume your daily functional lives.
So start a journal. Start reflecting on your day. Start reflecting on your day and how your emotions shaped your actions and decisions. Once you start identifying and becoming aware of this; it will all START making sense. You'll see.
More helpful links and resources about journaling:
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