Can I Love Myself?
Last week was tough, but I survived. Today, I wanted to talk about one thing that was made very clear to me, but was actually more complex than what it seemed.
If you were someone else and you were given the option to make friends with your current self, would you?
My answer: No.
I scheduled an emergency session with my therapist because I'd never felt so out of control until last week. I was scared and needed help. Towards the end of the session, tears were shed and realizations were made. I wouldn't want to be my friend.
"You have to like yourself first before anyone else would, right?"
Right... but it had always been hard. There were times when I couldn't look at myself in the mirror. My therapist pointed out that at that moment, sitting on the couch in his office, it seemed as if I didn't even want to be with myself. He was right. I despised myself so much that I wanted to run from me.
But that was why I needed an emergency session. Objectively, he advised me to do my hardest to be kinder to myself. I had to learn to be positive and stop whipping myself simply because I didn't want to turn that whip onto someone else.
You see, I thought that because my conscience wouldn't allow me to hurt other people emotionally, then it only made sense that I hurt myself instead. It was the only thing I had control over after all.
I was wrong. My therapist explained to me that it was possible to not hurt anyone at all. There was no need to deal myself pain. I could be confident and love myself without judging others. I could prevent myself from causing others pain without destroying my emotional state at the same time.
Looking around me, I constantly felt the tension in the air, that people despised me. In return, I despised myself even more for being this person that people disliked. I constantly pretended to be strong. I constantly pretended that I wasn't affected by the silent hate that most people threw at me. I constantly pretended that I was okay. And then when I was finally alone, I fell apart. I fell apart in such a way that I ceased to feel any emotion at all. That was the scariest part for me.
In an attempt to pretend I was an emotionless robot, or at least a detached one, when the opportunity presented itself, I was afraid. I didn't want to be a machine. I wanted to be recognized as a person.
So I suffer from anxiety from time to time. Some people were even so quick as to slap an inappropriate label on me like "uhm, you're bipolar."
It was always hard when I encountered ignorant individuals, but I would not be defined by the condition of my mental health.
I wasn't sure how I would proceed, but I knew one thing: I wasn't going to give up. It was a hard week, and I probably would have a few more weeks like it in my lifetime, but if I could learn to truly love myself without faltering, then I knew I would be alright.