Many would have us believe that the pinnacle of self-love is endless ecstasy. That it's about bathtubs by candlelight and special dates you take yourself on and sips of tea in front of rainy windowsills. It's a lie that said love is white-teethed smiles on sunny beaches.
It is a painful, destructive birth of new self. To love yourself you must first look squarely on with the things that have kept you from loving yourself and realizing that love isn’t synonymous with joy. It’s synonymous with growth. And growth isn’t bliss. It never was.
Because part of loving yourself is accepting the good, the bad, the darkness, the light, the ugly and most beautiful parts of yourself.
It is a heartbreaking process of undoing the life your unloved self built, brick by brick.
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