Photo taken by: Fala J. Al-Othman

The Hardest Kind of Love

Loving yourself isn’t easy. Surely not a paved road in the way Life Coaches would put it.

Coming to love yourself, is a start of a relationship. You are on introduction basis. Getting to know each other. And boy do we love the beginnings of anything!…

You come to like your sense of humor (in my case, dark sense of humor), your punchlines, the way you carry a conversation and the damn good friend you are. Then you start to get to know your traits, your emotional swings, your behavior, your default clumsiness, your sense for details, your shortcomings, and the tone of your voice. The tone of your voice that vibrates in your ears throughout the day. You are finally aware. Aware of the person you had on autopilot for many years. The struggles you’ve brilliantly hid, the pain you’ve numbed, the broken pieces you slept on. This is you, and your gonna have to love that self.

How do you love it, when you’re overthinking yourself till dawn? How do you love it when your body decides to counter attack you on your own pitch? How do you love it, when your sensitivity is pointed out as a flaw? How do you love it, when you’re embarrassed by your vulnerability? How do you love it, when your anger gets the best of you? How do you love it, when you stare at yourself in the fitting room with a big sigh of dissatisfaction and low self esteem? How do you love it, when your rights are wrong and your wrong doings eats up the rest of your day? How do you love it, when you wake up in the middle of the night in panic of what you said, or should’ve said? How do you love it, when you feel that you’ve disappointed your 22 year old self?

How do you love yourself? Is the toughest question my restless mind have questioned in the recent years. Not how the world was created, the miracle of life, or Trump being in Office.. But, how to love myself.

Here is the thing with my self. It is an interesting gal. I have days where I kinda like it, other days where I admire its beauty, from the waves of my hair when I wake up in the morning to the dark circles under my eyes that I find mesmerizing. But, on frequent days it bothers me, as if it gets on my nerves somehow.

I feel like I’m parenting myself. I’m so hard on it because I know what it’s capable of, yet I’m disappointed at the same time.. but I’m disappointed more on the way I have treated it honestly. I’ve never taken anything for granted as I much as I have with my health. I’ve rode my horse past the finish lines. I’ve instigated my mind more than a prosecutor in a court room. And when I was supposed to give from my heart I gave it out under a golden cloche.

You know what’s bewildering to me?.. The way I loved the love I gave to others. And do you know what’s crazy about this? Is that I wished that someone could match it up or reciprocate it.

But yet again, I am my own worst enemy, I am my toughest battles. I am my own hurdles. And above all of that I’m supposed to love the hell out of myself.

So how am I gonna do this? How will I live by the words of Hailee Steinfeld “I love me! I’m gonna love myself, no I don’t need anybody else”

Well, after this long, contradicting, conflicting relationship I have going, I get it now.. When the day dims, and the night unfolds. When the compliments fade, and the laughter is merely surreal. I am my longest relationship.. I am my unwavering commitment. And I’m gonna have to love the hell out of myself anyways.

Regardless of my downfalls, my imperfections, or what my anxiety begs to differ. I choose to acknowledge that, and love the hell out of myself anyways.

Because all love is conditioned, except the love you give to yourself.. under a golden cloche.

I write about the things that goes in your head, but fail to be expressed verbally or find its way to paper.

I write about the things that goes in your head, but fail to be expressed verbally or find its way to paper.