For a few years now I’ve been a proud advocate for self-love. By “proud advocate”, I mean I’ve been slowly and painfully trying to unlearn every little thing ingrained in my subconscious that made me not like myself for not being successful enough, or pretty enough, or skinny enough, or rich enough. It’s been a hell of a ride, to be honest.
Everyone loves talking about self-love as this 100% positive, never-negative sort of thing, and I mean, of course, in theory loving yourself is always a good, positive thing. But it’s not always so easy, y’know? The fact that I preach self-love and write and talk about it all the time doesn’t mean that it’s all smooth sailing for me. It’s similar to any other kind of relationship, I guess... Much like any other relationship in my life, trying to maintain a healthy, loving relationship with myself is sometimes messy and confusing and sometimes I end up crying and frustrated because I’m stuck between trying to love what and who I am at the moment and knowing all I can potentially be. There’s ups, down, rock-bottoms and times when I’m at peace with myself.
For me, personally, really loving myself becomes hardest when I’m trying to start a new romantic relationship. It’s pretty much hell. Self-doubt usually kicks in around the same time as romance starts happening in my life. When I add another person into my mix it’s like my brain just does not know how to deal with the fact that I have to let go and let my guard down. I’m a naturally needy human being. I love physical touch and verbal reaffirmations. Yes, maybe that means i’m a little more insecure than I’d like, but I’ve always been that way. It’s always been hard for me to cope with what I feel in this particular aspect. The influx and cheesy texts and kissy emojis is usually always accompanied by the arrival of the little demon on my shoulder, that annoying voice in my head, telling me I’m being too needy, or too suffocating, or maybe not showing how much I care for this new person. It’s always “you’re doing too much” or “you’re not enough”.
This is when loving myself becomes so hard… The part where I know I shouldn’t be this insecure. The part where I second-guess every kissy emoji or pet-name, or random text saying “I miss you”. The part where I need affection and I ask for it. The thing is, I’m supposed to be this badass woman who can deal with anything and everything the Universe throws at her, who always knows her worth and knows how smart and hot and beautiful she is - and never, ever forgets. Truth is, I’m not always that confident woman that self-love pages and blogs tell me I should be. Sometimes I’m a fucking mess (and if I happen to be on my period that week, you can multiply that by 10).
So when I ask this guy to FaceTime pretty much every other night even though I know he’s busy with school and work, something inside me feels bad. “He’s going to leave you for being annoying and asking so much when he’s busy. He’s probably bored of you, anyway.” That voice in my head tells me I’m asking for so much. Of course, once I calm down and get gain control of my emotions again I know I’m not actually asking for that much. I know I’m not the “bad” guy that my insecurities try to tell me I am.
Once I calm down, I remember that it’s okay to have doubts and sometimes not be in control. It’s okay to cry and not be what I’m supposed to, or be what I’m not supposed to be. It’s not the end of the world if I’m not always the confident woman that I try to portray in my daily life. It’s okay to be vulnerable and soft and speak in a soft voice and say “I miss you” or “give me attention”. It’s okay to love myself even with all these things. Because self-love, I’ve recently learned, is not about loving the ultimate, final version of myself, but about loving the process of becoming the woman I’m going to be. It’s about finding a method to my madness and enjoying the ride, no matter where it takes me. Self-love for me is no longer a destination, but a fundamental part of my personal growth and a human being and as a woman.
Without self-doubt and the inner struggles it brings into my life, loving myself would not be quite the same. The anxiety and doubt I sometimes feel about myself and my thoughts and my actions allow me to get to know myself a little more. There would be no famous works of art in museums if artists had simply thrown out the first draft of their work because it wasn’t what it was supposed to be. There would be no literary classics, or no film masterpieces. So that’s me, the human masterpiece in the making. I’m learning to love the process, both good and bad drafts and the way I see it, that is true self-love.
Xo,
C.