So here’s the thing…
I think I may have fallen in love…with myself.
Hear me out please.
So these past few days, I’ve been by myself. I’ve taken on the task of spending time with myself while I get to know myself. It sounds odd but can be quite relaxing if I say so myself.
This task includes:
- Eating whatever the hell I want when I want.
- Doing whatever the hell I please.
- Saying whatever the hell I please.
- WEARING whatever the hell I damn well please.
Since my last “relationship” (notice the quotations around relationship? Yeah I wasn’t really sure what it was either.) mishap that ended so tragically in January, I decided to take a hiatus on my love life, which by far has got to be one of the most challenging yet rewarding things I could’ve ever done for myself. Like my love life had been spiraling out of control..
I mean really, I went from an ended relationship in May/borderline June of last year with my ex – to a steamy lust filled affair in mid June that resulted in many late night rendezvous with a friend of mine – to an even steamier sultry summertime romance with my coworker – to dwelling within the same space as an obnoxiously obsessive acquaintance of mine who clung onto me like a wet t shirt-to finally landing flat on my face from the aftermath of the summertime romance-turned-casually-in-between-convenient-relationship with my coworker.
For those of you who can’t keep up, my coworker was the one I’d done everything for (including feeding his household) and was still dropped like a hot potato.
The summer was a shitty time to want a romance but an excellent time for my sex life. OH MY GOD.
After that, I decided that maybe I’d been trying to prove to myself that I was still the same person I was years ago, after my last breakup with my high school sweetheart.
Did I mention that even HE had cheated on me?
Oh I didn’t? Yeah…another story for another day my darling.
So after I’d gotten over mulling through every violent possibility that crossed my mind in ways I could physically torture my coworker, I took a step back. I sat down one night in my room and had a long talk with myself. Where was I going with this?
Was I going to let myself become this bitter and hatred filled being that I was once? Who’d want me after my insides had turned into charcoal, rotten from anger? Eventually this pain would invade my body like a cancer, damaging everything it came in contact with.
Oh and it would hurt like a bitch.
I’d roll around night after night in my bed, riddled with insomnia. Waking up every hour on the hour with my subconscious taunting me with horrific ideas and memories from my most recent downfall. I’d cry. I’d scream. Laugh. Yell. I’d curse God for making me believe that I was invincible…that…that I could possibly if not inhumanly escape heartache because a person like me didn’t deserve it.
I didn’t deserve that pain, that had once scarred me so deeply years ago, that if I did in fact shed a tear-numbness would overcome my chest. I’d cry and claw away at my chest till my skin blistered because I was numbed.
The stages would soon after begin.
I’d spend days texting him, and asking him if it was real. Asking him if it was indeed true, that the foundation had been crumbling beneath our very feet. Begging him, if not continuously pleading with him to make it work because we could get through it. It was our job as a couple to make it work. We weren’t parting our separate ways.
This stage would soon be accompanied by the feeling of panic.
Vulnerability. I was able to become so helpless as one person. I let him in. He was never supposed to see me like that. I was never supposed to show weakness. It was never supposed to get this far. He was supposed to be the one I fell in love with. He was the one that made me happy. I should’ve seen the signs.
Anger is soon followed by a lingering feeling of self doubt in decision making.
Maybe we could make this work. Yeah…yeah we’ll make this work. Maybe if I stopped being so emotional all the time, he’d stay. Maybe… just maybe if I sucked it up and behaved like other females we wouldn’t argue so much. Maybe I shouldn’t pick fights with him. I should know what sets him off, so I’ll give a little to gain something. God, if you bring us back together- I promise we can make this work.
I…we’re over. I’ve been fighting a losing battle. There’ll be no more us. How do we make it, when all we can be is apart?
Depression is accepting the reality of the situation. The feeling comes as being aware the situation has officially slipped out of your grasp.
I’ve accepted that yet another battle has been fought and in light of my loss, I emerge as a force not to be reckoned with. I’ve been beaten and crushed but here I am. I built myself on the broken pieces I was left with. And there’s not a damn thing that he could do about it. I weathered the storm and emerged as a warrior because while he is living his life, I will live mine happily.
And here I am. Nearly 3 months later, I have fallen in love with solitude. I happily dwell day in and day out by myself. I eat whatever the hell I want. I have embraced my chubbiness. I have embraced myself in all my flaws. I have come to terms with the idea of existing within my own mind, body, and soul and I tell you…it feels fucking awesome.
For once I did feel fucking fabulous. It felt marvelous not to have to watch my weight, or appearance, or feel to be scared of walking on egg shells as not to offend the person I was with. I felt alive.
I felt- I feel exhilarated. I feel as if I swallowed a lump that’d been forming at the back of my throat for so many years-taking away my voice. For once in a long time, I am completely unfazed by males as whole.
I am happily celibate, single, and focused to all hell.
BROWNIE POINT FOR ME.
Like when was the last time you really slept like a baby at the thought of being alone? Although I do support love in all it’s glory, I must say, learning to be alone is the ideal thing to do in your young age. I don’t mean alone as in alienation but alone as in enjoying your own presence.
Take time to love yourself.
Go ahead and eat that tantalizing slice of pie that’s been staring you in the face for weeks.
Wear that skirt you’ve been hiding in fear you’d look ridiculous in public.
I mean really fall in love with yourself first and foremost.
Look in the mirror and grip your love handles. Run your fingers through your grey hairs. Trace the stretch marks. Smile. Understand that behind the years of scars worth wearing, is this woman worth loving.
Its very easy to get swept up in the hype of romance whilst, giving your pieces away to fill the gaps of someone else’s despair.
Love yourself and become the person you needed as a child.
Be the person you needed just a day ago.
Hell walk around your room naked.
There’s nothing wrong with admiring the cracked frame of a picture God Himself created with such deliberate patience.
Be unapologetic in the love of yourself because no one else will when you’re alone.
But what do I know? I’m only 20.