How do I love me

What?

How!

Why why why?

Why would I not love myself? Have I ever loved me? If I did – when was that? When did I stop loving me? Because I must have come into this world with some love of self.

Is it the voices from the outside of me? Form teachers and friends, loving family and relatives, supporting peers and competing colleagues? Who say that I am too much, too little, too loud, quiet, too bold, timid, too assertive, retiring, too outspoken, reticent. Every one of them has an opinion. I have to change this, I cannot change that. This is what I must do, should do or can do. People do not do this, they do that. Is it them?

Is it the occurrences of my life – of relationships and situations? That I have woven and packed cumulatively into a dread thread of stories, that is becoming larger and larger. The conclusions on slapdowns and hurts, ruins and mistakes, unwanted and unloved. Burgeoning unbuilding baggage I carry with me. Forming the basis of destructive beliefs that colour my thoughts and influence my value of me. Diminish my love of me. Is it life?

Is it that other thing that lives in my head? Unstoppably slimming in increasing volume - thoughts of me not being enough. Focusing on my personal imperfections- real and imagined. Reminding me of how I am not enough?

Is it that disregarded pure voice, intuition – the part that I know is of the highest part of my being, of my spirit, that I ignore over and over again, knowing very well I should not and ruing it even as I do.

Is it the shame and regret I feel for the things I have said or not said, the things I did or not did do? The chances skipped, the right doors not walked through, the wrong doors walked through or those that I banged shut from spaces walked out of? The pain of what could have been?

When did I stop loving me? When did I deem myself unworthy to be loved by me? I question. And I think – that because I question, there is hope.

How can I start to love myself? How do I love me?

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