Loving myself and loving my body are two very different (yet connected) things. Why didn’t I ever realize this?
Without the first, I cannot be fully enriched with the latter. This seems obvious, but I don’t think I’ve ever totally absorbed this fact. I’ve always focused on tackling love for my body while love for myself was something to do when that was finished. Something I too often figure I have enough of.
I say to myself, “Oh, I really like myself.” But do I really?
The answer? SURE! When I’m doing nice things for my girlfriend, doing well in school, writing blogposts I’m really proud of, saving more money than usual, helping my mom out… So, basically when I’m doing things I deem “worth” love.
When I’m screaming at my girlfriend while we drive home? When I’ve been laying in bed for three days straight playing video games? When I didn’t study too well for that exam and then don’t make the grade I wanted? Depends on the day.
Self-love is something that seems so easy over blog posts. We’re given check-lists of techniques to try to boost love for the self, courses to take to find love for ourselves, and little phrases to write down for later. And I’m the biggest sucker for step-by-step guides, especially guides on conquering world changing actions!
Difficult thoughts, life experiences, and fights with the self are simple to transfer into eloquent words then molded into a pretty font.
I read through my posts sometimes, and it really seems like I’m this lucky 19-year-old who’s getting her crap together early and getting life in order to be happy and living my dreams forever, completely enveloped in my own love.
Some days I really feel like that lucky 19-year-old is really typing to you.
But some days really suck, and I feel like a total hypocrite for writing any of the things I’ve posted.
Some days I don’t know why I ever thought I was a sensitive person, a loving girlfriend, or deserving of all the love that surrounds me.
These are the days that I seek out blog posts that, in these specific instances, paralyze me with the notion that I’ll never be as wonderful and inspiring as the women I’m reading. I’ll never put sentences together like her; I’ll never be as happy or powerful as her; I may as well just give up and find the next best thing. Or maybe I’m not worth that either…
Loving one’s body is just as necessary but very different from loving one’s self.
We need to start with the self and always come back to the self, especially one the days we lose hope of everything inside of us.
It sucks that I forget this constantly, that I am so harsh with myself, and that I get down on myself for failing at what everyone struggles with daily.
But, just like you, I do.
And it’s all about coming back to the self and recognizing that, and all the good, along with the bad.