Another ValentineвЂ™s Day has arrived and gone, and IвЂ™m left contemplating CupidвЂ™s arrow and L-O-V-E.
This though, it was less about me spending an hour shaving and more about reflection, introspection, and a journey into the heart of self-love year.
Trust in me, IвЂ™m no specialist in the art work of intense self-love. IвЂ™m generally speaking definitely better at self-deprecation and self-sabotage.
Backstory: I first started processing the thought of dating myself when I had been dealing with an important, major breakup this past year. It absolutely was probably the most relationship that is defining ever been an integral part of; it absolutely was with a person who had been the initial individual to ever understand me- the nice, the bad, as well as the at the beginning of the morning me (yikes). It absolutely was a tumultuous, terrible, wonderful, bright, miserable, enlightening, and invigorating relationship- all at one time. Day but, he just changed his mind one. One thing about perhaps not having the ability to stay me personally or something like that. When it had been over, I happened to be, merely, alone.
I did sonвЂ™t understand locations to turn when it comes to highs and lows IвЂ™d become so accustomed to over time. I did sonвЂ™t understand who to perform to or how exactly to distract myself from truth. I did sonвЂ™t have meaning any longer. It sucked big style.
I became in hell. Rather than because he was missed by me. I happened to be in hell because We knew during my deepest deeply that I became just planning to need to be me personally. I did sonвЂ™t know me personally and I also didnвЂ™t actually want to become personally familiar with me, either. It seemed too frightening.