Falling in Love with Yourself

Many years ago I felt trapped in my own dark night of the soul. It felt like being stranded at sea with no wind, stripped of my dreams and illusions, with no discernible direction and no way to get there even if I did. I painted this bleak picture to one of my teachers and mentors and she said simply, “The only way through this is to fall in love with yourself.”

I told her to F- off.

By then, I was too humbled to disbelieve her. Problem was, I did believe her. Something in me knew that this was true, that this is what my broken heart had revealed. Still, I felt I had a higher chance of performing actual brain surgery. The idea of, not just loving myself, but being IN LOVE with myself, seemed the loneliest, most impossible feat from where “I” was, a muddy puddle on the floor. “How?”, I wanted to know. I remember asking that question over and over, for months, then years.

In time, I realized that falling in love with myself was exactly the same as falling in love with anything or anyone else. That falling in love has a pretty predictable trajectory. First, I had to step back from that puddle just far enough to look at it. Give my full attention to the part of me that was broken and liquid and low. Doing that meant that I could see that that puddle wasn’t me, but a part of me. A part of me that was young, and confused, and impossibly dear in her vulnerability. In short, I had to see her.

Next, I had to let in all the compassion and understanding that had been held at bay by my judgement and self-condemnation, my self-righteousness and indignation around all that I had lost. With that compassion and understanding came grieving.

The grieving took a very, very long time.

Friends, let’s just decide to get good at grieving. If the pandemic has taught us anything it is that loss upon loss is an inevitable feature of living as humans in the time-space continuum. Why fight it? Let us grieve beautifully and luxuriously and openly. Let our grief be a prayer of surrender and trust. Let our grief be, in its keening, an embrace of what is. Let our grief be a blessing.

Once the grieving started making room for other things, I noticed that I could fall in love with what I love, and give myself those things. Finding songs to be anthems to my strength and resilience, stories that connected me to what I was becoming. I danced with myself, sang to myself, wrote myself love letters of encouragement, looked at pictures of my old self and both missed her and was proud of how resilient she’d become.

See? I began to crush on myself, little by little. Enchanted with my ideas and my own wonder, engaging with my dreams, prioritizing my creativity and joy, standing up for myself in bigger and bigger ways, until I realized it had happened. This impossible thing! I was falling in love with myself. And the idea of betraying myself became more and more contrary to who I am: a person who is whole.

How can you take baby steps to falling in love with yourself this week? Where are you on this journey - or where do you start? Leave me a comment - I’d love to high-five you.

POEM

Advice Received Upon Solicitation For How To Mend a Broken Heart

Fall in love with the self.

(What?)

Start with the mind and wander its narrow streets.

On a sunny day there is architecture to admire,

Sweet micro gardens, tumbling over high windows,

Cheeky with ideas, lush with curiosity.

But the mind is shifty.

The rooms behind the windows are full of poets and lovers, yes,

But also gossips and cowards,

So easy to trip into dark neighborhoods -

Lurking bullies, and all that.

Safer to turn to the body and admire its

inner conveyances

(The outside of the body is guarded by jackals).

Systems, loosely, delicately tangled,

Like the roots of a forest unified with fungi,

Like a jazz symphony

All the elements flowing regiments:

Fire from the brain

Air from the heart

Earth from the gut

And water

Water everywhere

flowing, glistening, leaking, squirting

The water of the body wastes no syllables:

tears piss sweat blood cum

It has work to do.

Water never rests.

I can admire that.

The body-cosmos!

The moon!

But to fall in love… I know that to be made of thinner,

more gossamer stuff.

I do not fall in love with a body

I do not even fall in love with a mind

I fall in love with a soul. With a mirror of my own.

Fall, and your soul will catch you, promise.

Rest your head in her palm as she cradles your weary heart

Shhhhh, she says,

Shhhhh, I’ve got you.

Just rest, and I will fall in love with you.