Never have I ever loved me

I have never loved myself. Those self love dialogues have evaded me, and the teachers who preach peace, unity, self love and kindness have seemed crazier than my old passions to find the deep end of a whiskey bottle.

If you don’t love yourself, how can you love anyone else?

I do it every single day. I love my children. I love my husband. I’d eat a bullet for them too, and it’s the faster variety I’m speaking of. I’d even not eat the speedier varieties I’d sometimes wish to give myself, like some sort of backhanded antidote.

That’s how you love someone else, even when you don’t love yourself.

I fight negative voices, with even more negative thoughts.
You’re so worthless….
You’re a blazing idiot if you believe this shit

It works out for me.
Sometimes…

Sometimes it backfires on me, and then I need to retreat from the world into the quiet. I need to get away from the noise on the outside, which mutes the snowy television noise inside my head. Yes, I picture the sounds of depression, anxiety, and a highly unattractive temper problem, as snow noise from a dysfunctional television.

You know you’ve heard worse analogies, don’t even start to judge me.

So no, I don’t love myself, never have. I’ve been to all the self love seminars. I’ve seen all the YouTube videos with the hippie and the self righteous message about a self love class, that is AH-MAZING but it’s got a hefty price tag on the end of the video.

Self love, is an overpriced term.
Yep, I said it.

You don’t HAVE to love yourself, to know you’re worth more than a three day old bubble gum dropping on the underside of a school desk. You don’t have to look in the mirror and recite a practiced mantra that you can barely speak nonetheless believe. You don’t have to tell yourself that yourself is worth being yourself.

What you DO have to do, is find your truth.

Your truth, what makes you tick? What makes your blood boil, and evaporate into the steam that blows out of your ears? What makes you feel blue and ice cold? What ARE you? Are you a big ball of passion, or a ball of yarn that unravels once a week?

I like to call myself a very passionately delicate yarn ball, with pink string in the middle!

Case and Point:
Self love, isn’t the point
The point……
Is that you know the differences
between fact and fiction
truth and a lie
What you are, and what you aren’t.

You don’t need love, to state fact.