So I had yet another one of those major, insane personal breakthrough moments the other night night that I seem to be having all the time lately (seriously, you all must be getting tired of this) but which never fail to just shake the hell out of me anyway. I was bouncing around the internet before going to bed when I noticed that both of my most recent exes had basically declared whiplash love on the internet during the course of the day. One had written a gorgeous poetic rambling convoluted insane blog about the new loves in their life, and the other had declared what seemed to me to be a somewhat complicated facebook status change, which sounds less dramatic but isn’t really. Both, in their perfect over-and-understated ways, blew me away, not with anger or sorrow or jealousy but with total joy. No matter how insanely or irritatingly or sadly these stories might end up, in that moment these online revelations seemed perfect in their own ways for these two people. I don't know much about the situations but in that moment from where I was looking from it seemed like the universe had dealt out completely satisfactory hands to two people who I had loved, still loved in different ways, and I wished them nothing but happiness. It was a pretty beautiful moment, feeling so good for other people when by society’s rights I should probably be feeling hurt and rejected.
So I got out my journal to write about it, because I didn’t know who else I could share with right then. And I wrote these words: “They are in love, and I’m finding a self I love alone, and we’re all so happy, where we are, even if just for tonight.” Sure, the new loves might not stay forever, the facebook status might change again, I might get grumpy and irritable next week, but that night? I chose to believe that, at least regarding love, we were all on top of the world.
I wrote more, details of my amazement and amusement and glee, shallow questions and insightful thoughts. And then, out of nowhere, I had one of the deepest personal moments I can ever remember having, and because I have apparently decided to be painfully and ridiculously honest about so much of my life I’m going to write about it here. It’s true, not just lip service: I am learning to love myself, by myself. Sometimes I feel like I’m being a little foolishly stubborn about my desire not to date right now, but really I know this is exactly what I need to do. My relationships fail in part because I do not love myself enough, because I don’t let myself see the qualities I have that I would love, and so I end up losing my sense of self while I search for a better one. But now, alone, I’m finally starting to see my better (and worse) qualities and I am so overcome by them that I am falling in love with myself, bit by bit. It seemed so trite, but the realization that I’m acting like somebody who is in love made such perfect sense that I knew I was right. All I could do was sit back to bask in the glow of all that self-love.