I haven’t always been this happy.
Recently, I came across a short writing that I obviously penned one morning a little while back. It described a typical morning during some personal dark times. Absolutely dreadful.
I had forgotten how depressing many of my mornings used to be. Reading that piece, which I don’t exactly remember writing but yet I do, I recalled many of the sad, self-destructive feelings I dealt with on a near daily basis. The contrast to how I feel today is shocking.
I don’t feel that way anymore. I don’t struggle like I did. I don’t feel helpless, hopeless, and alone like I did. I see the world in an entirely different light. I look forward to the future and enjoy the present.
I wasn’t really ever alone. I had friends who patiently watched me, encouraged me, and put up with me. I wouldn’t have. But there is the lesson.
I’ve heard many times that in order to love someone else, you need to love yourself first. I don’t agree with that. I hated myself. I despised my feeling of worthlessness, my weakness.
I disgusted myself and then I would hate myself even more. Even thinking of those times when depression dropped to its lowest, I’m embarrassed of myself.
Don’t bother trying to tell me I shouldn’t. I do. And it’s my right to call myself out. My depression was based in my own weakness and my own inability to cope with the situation at the time. I apply that diagnosis only to me. Everyone else can call it however they see fit for them.
But I can tell you I loved the people who stood by me. Especially the one who had to deal with it every day. Although I tried to hide so much of it from her, she saw it and still had to live with it. Actually she didn’t have to; she chose to, and that made me, while hating myself, love her even more.
I kind of like me now, because she loved, and loves me still.
I’m no head shrink, but I can tell you when it came to loving me, someone else had to go first.