piercing-loneliness

How to Learn to Love Yourself More

In My Red Pencil by veronicaLeave a Comment

How do I love myself?  Who is this “I”, I want to love?

Do I have masks?  Where do I hide so I cannot be hurt?

How do I defend myself, against the unknown, against the other, against the pain inside?

The wound… how do I love myself?  I love myself caring for my wound, caring for the abandoned parts of self, caring for others in the I and You…

I focus in the pain… what is it, where is it?  What is that hurts and I want to forget, where is its source?  What is its story?  Can I relate to it?  When does it happen, with whom?  Is it a cry, an emptiness, is it a beating?

I learn all I can about my wound and I care for it, to heal it, to make the scar that will remember where I have been, and that will protect me, showing me and others that I know to heal that type of wound…

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I care for those aspects of self I left behind, that find my sorrow when no one sees…  I give them time and energy, I nurture them with what they need – not with what I want, I let them play and create…

I listen to my emotions, and let them live in me, I let them take me, connect me with life…  I let them tell me where my energy is, the fire that will change me… I connect my emotion with my story, with you, and nurture the story, give it form, embed it in other narratives, the narratives of the soul that hint to where to go and what to do… I learn all the narratives I can to support my soul in her endeavour…

I learn to relate to the ones I love and care for, today, not tomorrow, today I will meditate and ponder what has happened, how did it happen…

I conceive and project other ways to relate better with you, and I put my intention, my thought and my desire into it…

I learn to listen to my body, pains and symptoms, and caringly give body its movements and nutrition, pleasure and relaxation… I let body be free, from restrictions and impositions, from my own prejudices… I listen carefully…

I care for my space, I give it form and order as the place I inhabit, as the place where my soul is called to imagine and my spirit to create, where the three come into being in the body…

And late, at night, when the hassle of the day quiets down, I consider with Memory what I forgot, what I left out that day, that wanted to be heard in me… tomorrow it will be our day…  I piece together my own doings, I piece and gather up the places I have been… to build bit by bit the I that includes them all, no part left behind, no part in exile, the I that tomorrow wakes up to the new day to gather some more pieces, to know me, to love me…

 

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