Approving of Myself

So it's been a rough week. A flashback that led to a hard therapy session, that led to another flashback, that led to lots of memory pain and assorted issues that stem from the abuse. 

And now it's Monday morning, and emily is exhorting me to Dare to Love Yourself. I do love myself, don't I? I just have trouble approving of myself. Not judging myself. Not criticizing myself.

I know the abuse wasn't my fault. I know it as well as I can at this point. But there is that little voice in my head that says, each time something new comes up or something old comes around again, "You're just an attention whore. You just want to be the center of the universe and have everyone's undivided attention."

I stop and have that conversation with myself, again, about why would I make up stories? What's the point to it? What's the benefit to me of being in such pain that I spend a day curled up in bed trying to ward off the memory of pain inflicted on my body 45 years ago? Why can't I just let it go and move on? 

I asked my husband how I can be who I am today -- a college graduate with a Master's degree, the mother of 2 children, a wife, a cook, a homemaker, a friend, a writer(?), an encourager -- when all those awful things happened to me, and they keep floating around in my head hindering what I want to be doing? Doesn't my ability to function negate the likelihood that all those awful things really happened? And he put it in perspective for me, again. My assumption is anyone who is functional has never suffered. He reminds me that everyone has trouble and struggles. That we are all trudging along doing the best we can with whatever baggage we carry. And it helps all of us to help each other carry those loads.

So, do I love myself? Yes, but I need to work on it. I need to learn to love me as much as I love you. And while I'm at it, I need to cut everybody a little slack for bad days.

Peace.

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