Last night I had a dream…
“Do you love me?” I asked the figure standing above me. It was bathed in light and I could not see who, or what, it was.
“I do,” said the voice, humming. It was a tone I had not recognized before.
“But I’m broken,” I rebutted. “I don’t deserve love.”
“Is that so?” the voice asked, laughing. “Tell me how you’re broken.”
“You wouldn’t understand. If you knew me, you could never love me,” I replied.
“Try me,” said the voice, calmly.
“Fine. Would you love me even if I was cheater?”
“Yes. Even that.”
“Would you love me even if I was a liar?”
“Even that.”
“Would you love me even if I was a drug addict and alcoholic?”
“Yes. Even that.”
“Would you love me even if I couldn’t stop watching porn?”
“Yes. Even that.”
“Would you love me even if I forgot to brush my teeth every day?”
“Yes. Even that.”
“Would you love me even if my car was a mess and my laundry piled sky-high?”
“Yes. Even that.”
“Would you love me even if I sucked at being an adult?”
“Yes. Even that.”
“Would you love me even if I never found a wife?”
“Yes. Even that.”
“Would you love me even if I failed every relationship I’ve ever been in?”
“Yes. Even that.”
“Would you love me even if I never had children?”
“Yes. Even that.”
“Yes. Would you love me if I didn’t save enough money?”
“Yes. Even that.”
“Would you love me even if I never actualized my greatest sexual fantasies?”
“Yes. Even that.”
“Would you love me even if my business failed?”
“Yes. Even that.”
“Would you love me even if I never made it as a writer?”
“Yes. Even that.”
“Would you love me even if my name was never known by the world?”
“Yes. Even that.”
“Would you love me even if I couldn’t forgive?”
“Yes. Even that.”
“Would you love me even if I couldn’t let go?”
“Yes. Even that.
“Would you love me even if never figured it out?”
“Yes. Even that.”
When I awoke, I felt tears streaming down my eyes. At first I thought I had spoken to God or some angelic being, but I quickly realized what it actually was. The being I was talking to was no one other than myself - the highest, most beautiful version of myself I could imagine.
See, I’ve spent my whole life beating myself to a bloody pulp. I let the opinions of others dictate everything I became, whether I was aware of it or not. Worse than that, I let my own self doubt and fear control my life - the most precious thing I ever owned. At that point it wasn’t even my life - it was an illusion built upon what others wanted me to be and what I was too afraid to become.
One day I had a realization. Self-love isn’t really about acceptance or positive self talk, or anything else the happy gurus try to sell us. Most of the time, self-love is simply having the courage to say, “Fuck it.” Fuck it to the doubt, fuck it to the expectations, fuck it to the fear. We can live our entire lives trying to conform to what the world wants us to be, or we can make the world conform to who we are. It’s scary. It’s risky. People inevitably drop off along the way. My only guarantee is that it’s worth it.
These days, whenever that voice - the one that tries to find all the reasons why I’m worthless - pops up inside my head, I ask myself one simple question, followed by one simple answer…
“Even that?”
“Yes. Even that.”
Love this 🥲
Damn that is profound!! love that