Ghost town

Last night I tried to think of three things that I love about myself. I've been praying for months now - three things I'm grateful for each night. And I do usually sit in those things, and appreciate them. But they're always outside of myself.

I cried last night, thinking of things I love about myself. It felt like I broke open a part of me I had sealed.

I used to love the story from Plato's Symposium. "According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs, and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves." I wanted people to complete me - my partner, my friends, my family. I wanted them to be my strength, my bravery, my safe place. I wanted them to love me to show me I was loveable...because I didn't love myself.

It's a strange thing, loving yourself. I always thought I was okay because I didn't hate myself. I respected myself most of the time. I thought that was enough. It's all I've seen close to me, and I thought the rest was just fluff. The first visualization that asked me to imagine pouring sunshine into my body I was convinced was absurd. You told me I would love that part of meditating, but you never fully saw my darkness -- when I came in September was the first time that I felt you start to at least grasp that there was a part of me that you hadn't touched.

I let you mask my insecurities. If I felt loved by you, it was all okay. I molded you to catch me before I fell as best as anyone could, because if (when) I fell, neither one of us could catch me.

I don't want to keep hiding behind my partner. I don't want another half. I want to be whole. I want to love myself fully, and I want my confidence to radiate from that.

"i do not want to have you
to fill the empty parts of me
i want to be so full on my own
i want to be so complete
i could light a whole city
and then
i want to have you
cause the two of us combined
could set it on fire"