You are laying on the floor of your old cabin house. You faintly hear thunder rumbling outside, as the soft rain turns into a violent pour. The autumn leaves wreck themselves in chaos, as orange, yellow and red falls continuously onto the grass. You meditate on the wondrous works of nature as well as ‘Space Song’ by Beach House. You are staring at the ceiling as yet another existential crisis hits you, yet you are overjoyed to be having it. In fact, you are maybe happier than you’ve ever been in your life: to just be laying there, accepting the moment and listening to the leaves as they ferociously fall from the trees.
You walk into a dark, beautiful mansion and hear Frank Sinatra playing. The architecture is nothing like you’ve ever seen before- lights and chandeliers and interior design that is so picturesque. You walk outside on the balcony of the highest level. It’s nighttime and a sky full of stars reveals itself to you, dazzling and seemingly full of infinite light. Below the sky is an immensely dark ocean, full of creatures and stories you don’t know yet. In the hazy distance you see a large ship making its way back to shore. The crescent moon shines brightly, staring at you as if you are another star shining ever so brightly in the sky.
Why it’s so damn important to love the hell out of yourself
Hi you. The you who wonders why he left. The you that has so many unanswered questions and growing insecurities. The you that only saves your love for others, believing that you yourself are undeserving of the love you hold inside yourself.
I know that you try to hide your insecurities. That you pretend there were legit reasons for why he left. But I know in the back of your head you’re thinking about every little thing that you might think is unlovable about yourself. You’re thinking about how your hips bulge out a little too much in that one pair of pants, how your under eye circles are too dark, how your lips aren’t shaped evenly, and all of these other stupid unnecessary reasons you think might have caused his leaving. I know. I know. I know.
The thing you should understand is if a man is coward enough to leave someone who loves him he’s probably not a good man to be with in the first place. And if a man like that is in a relationship with ANYONE, then he will leave regardless. Meaning, those trivial reasons you made up definitely have nothing to do with the fact that he’s a shitty person and would’ve left regardless of how much concealer you put under your eyes, the way your hips bulged out, and anything else. But you probably don’t know this. So you stick to those made up reasons, those strange insecurities, and continue to loathe yourself for reasons that don’t even exist.
And nevertheless these insecurities eat you up. They carry within you when you go out places and when you meet new people. They carry within you in the way you talk and stand. These stupid insecurities sit inside you and control your presence when you walk in a room. Your brain floods with fears that people can see these. These insecurities eat you up and force up a wall while they’re at it, causing you to be more apprehensive when perhaps someday you meet someone new.
So that day when you do meet someone new, you fight feelings.
You have high hopes that you’ll meet someone who is right for you, but when you meet someone new, you fight feelings. You force a wall up. You wear extra makeup and concealer under your eyes. You wear clothes that hug you in what you might consider the perfect ways. And you don’t let him fully in. Thinking that he’ll soon leave because of these same made up insecurities you’ve created for why the last man left. And you fight. You fight those emotions more than you’ve fought anything. Unwilling to let your walls be torn down, to let him break your barriers and actually get to know you. And you don’t let him. You never do. You don’t let him get to know the beautifully imperfect gift that you are. He never gets to see it. And when a person never gets to see all that you are, he will never truly understand your magnificent self and will become frustrated when you never let him. And this is why he actually leaves.
So my challenge to you is to let him in, but before that, let yourself be at peace with all that you are. With your too dark of circles under your eyes, your uneven lips, your “bulging” hips, and everything else that you despise about yourself that is actually completely normal and imperfect. Because if you’re never at peace with these things, you will never be able to be at peace with someone else seeing these things. The daunting fear of his leaving will scare you into not being able to ever fully show yourself. And that should scare the shit out of you, having someone see you for only a portion of the impeccable beauty you are. I hope you’re scared. And I hope you turn this fear into bravery. I hope you’re brave enough to love someone. I hope you’re brave enough to love yourself.
I guess it feels different for everyone. The feeling of not being loved. Sometimes it’s not really a feeling. Sometimes it’s numbness. Or maybe sometimes it’s the taste of alcohol every night- to the point where you don’t even taste it anymore. Maybe it’s dry eyes from crying rivers. Or a shaking body unable to shed a single tear. Sometimes it’s a photograph of the one that didn’t love you back quite the way you did. The feeling of being so strong yet able to break any moment like a rubber band, so desperate to feel love but so terrified at the same time that you feel more yourself around strangers.
The feeling of not being loved comes with the idea that no one in your life loves you. And realistically, maybe that’s not true, but you tend to think so. No matter how many people I have, no matter how many people claim to care for me, claim to love me, or spend time with me, I don’t feel like I’m genuinely loved for myself. Will I ever feel at home? It’s a question you ask for as long as you don’t feel loved. And for some of us, that’s our whole life. And when you never feel loved, you do things so that you can cheat it. You cheat real love by feeling admired, by feeling beautiful, by feeling seductive or by being careless- so you don’t have to be responsible for loving. You do all these other things in your life so that hopefully it will make up for all of the love that you are lacking in your life. So you break hearts, you set incredibly high expectations, you date too many people and you leave too soon. You claim that love will never come in your life, that you will never be able to fully grasp it into your hand. And you say and do all these things, but deep down you know the real reasons for why you do those things. You know that you shield yourself from love because deep down you know you’d love harder than anyone else in this damn world. And that scares you more than anything.
What people don’t tell you about sadness, is that it can be so far etched into your soul, so deeply hidden, that it becomes such a normal and usual feeling. People don’t tell you that your own sadness becomes a comforting feeling, once it’s been there long enough. You become so comfortable with your own depression, your own sadness, your own misery, that the thought of it not being there is almost frightening. My sadness was something I held dearly. It was something so comforting, something I knew would never change when every other messy fucked up situation in life did change. My sadness basically became a part of me, a keen trait about myself. There’s something else they don’t tell you about sadness, probably because they don’t really need to. They don’t tell you about the self destructive habits it causes. Alcoholism. Abuse. People pleasing. Sex. Insomnia. The list is endless. The list is endless particularly because when you are that incredibly sad, you will try every fucked up possible idea for you to get out of that feeling.
I had spent many long torturous nights
yearning for you
in such a nostalgic way
that shouldn’t be true.
I never noticed how one day I went
from missing to longing you.
I don’t want to yearn and I certainly don’t want to cry
But it’s as if you are still here but already said your goodbye.
And you get confused of why I cry
Staring at the sparks that still pass us by
Are you not blind, oh lover of mine?
I mean sure, fires still burn
but the flame ain’t as bright.