The Fine Art of Self-Love
When they said "pick your battles," I said, "Alright. I'm picking all of them." Whenever I was told to relax or calm down, it was a hairpin trigger- "I AM CALM!" I was given the gentle advice to be less judgmental of those I barely knew. Those words bounced off of me, dismissed and deflected; "I'm not a people person," I chose to retort.
I was a toxic person. It became hard for those around me to bear my constant negativity, my overbearing aggressiveness, and my incessant need to be right. Keeping my company became cumbersome- I was hardheaded. When I went off the wall, which was approximately fifteen times every hour, it was impossible to get a word in inchwise. I was a powderkeg, begging for an excuse to explode.
Once I was hit with the sudden realization that I was the most toxic person I knew, and all the people I held near and dear to me was suffering because of it, I knew I had to change.
So, I'm a work in progress. Just like any big project, I am a work in progress. And I've already begun to simmer down the vat of social poison and spiritual bile that I had become so comfortable with holding inside of me. It's certainly no cakewalk to become a bigger person. But life has lost some of its sourness, even in these early stages. As have I. People want to be around me more. I am no longer a lioness, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce and rip someone's throat out. And it's funny... I like myself better, too.
Self-loathing is an entirely too familiar concept for me, and you'd be hard-pressed to find a single person on this earth in this day and age who hasn't grappled with it. I have struggled with my self-loathing since I was twelve. That's nine years of looking in the mirror and hating the person in the reflection. The one person you are always in the company of is yourself, and I hated that company more than I trust words to properly convey.
In this project, this journey to becoming safe for consumption, I've noticed a dramatic drop in my suicidal ideation, a vast decrease in my negative self-talk, and a foreign, yet welcome, sense of comfort in who I am as a person, and in the person I am becoming.
Isn't that such a weird side effect? In trying to avoid being toxic to others, I've discovered that I had also been being toxic to myself. Hindsight is 20/20, and looking at the past, I've realized the grotesque qualities I had possessed that made it hard for others to tolerate me, were the very same behaviors that fed my insecurities, and, ultimately, the contempt and abhorrence I held for my own self.
When I said I wanted to love myself, I had a grossly different idea of what that journey entailed. I'd always thought the road to self-love was paved by self-acceptance, and lined with love for even your most prominent of flaws... But it turns out it's paved by personal growth instead... Personal growth. The decision that I no longer wanted to be the source of my loved ones' lamentation has acted as the soil, water, and sunlight that breathes life into the flowers that adorn the pathway to self-love.
In retrospect, it seems so obvious, so elementary... Why would you try so hard to love something you hate, when you could instead simply become someone you love.
This path is ornamented with the fruits of my labor, and toil and trouble it holds for me, rest assured. My Borderline Personality Disorder and manic depression will make it so. Sometimes, the path will be simultaneously rocked by earthquakes, muddied with torrential downpour, and darkened by moonless night, creating a cacophony of agony. Other days, my path will be a yellow brick road on the mildest of days, with a sky dotted by cumulus clouds and warm, reassuring sunlight pouring down on me. This dichotomy is as life is when one is burdened by such illnesses. The trek will certainly have been far less painful without these afflications, but I will reach my destination none the less.
My old therapist was a fan of the phrase, "skills, pills, and therapy." I thought I understood it before... I was wrong. Now, I'm fully grasping what he meant when he referred to skills. Not only skills taught in therapy, but also those harder-to-learn lessons that help you become a more stable, happier, and self-loving person. Skills like picking your battles, and holding your tongue. And like any skill, it takes hard work, dedication, and a lot of practice to achieve mastery. Some days will be holes-in-one through and through, and other days, I'll miss every single shot I take. Most days will be in the median, but I have confidence that over time, I will continue to learn and grow as I rehearse the fine art of self-love. Every allstar was once a rookie.
