I've Never Loved Myself Like This Before

I was raised to believe that perfection was not only attainable, but obvious. That everything is black and white. I spent a lot of time doing all the wrong things, and I have struggled with never being good enough. Letting mistakes break me.

Of all of the work I have been doing, on being a better person, friend, coworker, sister, and aunt- being better to myself has been the hardest. Trusting myself, and being kind to myself when I mess up has not come easy. Sometimes I still feel like two people inside one body. One person that does things, lives life, and another that sits and watches and judges, “nope, not good enough.” Every success accompanied by a voice tearing it down.

When I went to Europe with my sister I had a hope that it would change how I felt about myself, that something would open up inside of me, and I would see things differently. I ended up feeling like the world was so much bigger than before, and I felt sad. I was sad because I was still the same person, even on the other side of the globe. I knew this of course, I just hadn’t felt it before. It was the harshest realization I’ve had in awhile. I was depressed- it was me- not my environment. That was a year ago now, and everything has changed.

I worried for months that I would not be able to handle moving out, and living a normal, adult lifestyle. That I would crack- forget to pay my rent. That Europe would happen again, I would be in a different place but feel exactly the same. I would be lazy and not make myself dinner, I would have to call my family for help. (What a nightmare!) I have been so wrong, so very wrong. Everything is okay. I made chili last night, with venison that my brother-in-law shot a week ago. I kind of believed I couldn’t cook very well, granted I had a great recipe, but it turned out perfect. This entire weekend I have been alone, silently enjoying myself and where I am. That pot of chili felt like a giant trophy of success. I want to lean out of my window and scream “I’m doing it! I’m living! I’m okay!”

My apartment smells of coffee, vanilla, and lavender. The cement floor is cool and clean, Bon Iver is playing on the Xbox. The bath is hot, candles lit in jars. It is raining outside, and the cold wind is blowing through the open window. I have never felt so calm. My body feels different; lighter, fuller, and more real. I have never felt so good. I love myself, I love my space. I am so filled with gratitude for my family, my job, my friends, and my therapist (she's how I got from there to here). I wish I could express it better. My heart feels like the Grinch’s, when it grows 3 sizes. When I said ‘it gets better’ I hadn’t even scratched the surface.