“It’s not your thing. You pick the wrong thing, every damn time. The wrong person, the wrong situations, the wrong thing to do. Give up and go back to being a nobody.”
I remember the times I wanted to be loved, and only wanted to be loved. It was a compulsive need. A thirst, a hunger I couldn’t satiate. Always falling short, never giving up, believing in the next guy and living the broken heart story, over and over. I lost my self respect, lost my head. Before I knew it, I’d fallen out of love with myself. I despised what I’d turned into. A love-hungry monster. Every time I read my texts to him, which quickly escalated from being nice and sweet to desperate, I know now, I won’t lie. I was smothering the both of us. Investing in feelings that didn’t matter, really. While Taylor Swift made songs out of her heartbreaks, there I was – making a fool out of my heartbreaks.
Someone told me you needed twenty-one days to recover from a burn like being spurned by the wrath of unrequited love. The burn of having being used emotionally, among other things: but then I realised that I couldn’t really blame anyone but myself. Why would I ever think that anyone needed me just for the purpose of needing me, and not for selfish reasons? And the dark well that I fell into was a nightmare. I was a zombie. Just alive but not really existing. It got so bad, I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror anymore because the revulsion that rose inside me like vomit each time I looked into my own eyes, was too great. I couldn’t bear it anymore. But then I realised that living this way, not having lived at all, was a total waste. I needed to breathe, move on and leave the toxic waste behind.
So how did I come out of it?
I forgave myself. Self-acceptance is the first step to everything. At the end of the day, the only thing that matters is what you think of yourself. Not what the guy that screwed you over thinks. Not what he discusses about when he’s done with his booze and pot and his hangover is messing with all his senses. Doesn’t matter what people say. Doesn’t matter if they slut-shame you, or try to hurt you with words because in the end it’s all just words. As long as you love yourself, a man’s opinion on you doesn’t matter. He may be all over your ass like a fat kid eating cake but talk rubbish behind your back when he’s with that other girl, but that doesn’t matter either. It’s on him, not on you.
You do you, because you’re awesome and beautiful and pure and nothing can take that away. Love yourself and it all goes away. Sometimes all you need to do is stay strong, and believe in yourself.
You gotta love yourself.