This Valentine's Day...Love Yourself Enough

“Happiness comes from within. It is not dependent on external things or on other people. You become vulnerable and can be easily hurt when your feelings of security and happiness depend on the behavior and actions of other people. Never give your power to anyone else.”

~ Brian L. Weiss

Damn!  Is it Valentine’s Day again already???? This day always sneaks up on me.  I’d rather just skip this day and move on to St. Patrick’s Day.  Valentine’s Day hasn’t been very romantic for me in a long, long time.  Being single, I’ve sat at home on Valentine’s Day the past two years.  During my marriage, Valentine’s Day wasn’t all that romantic either.  Granted our marriage wasn’t very healthy, but my ex-husband did make feeble attempts at being romantic on Valentine’s Day.  He tried giving me a card, and I was disappointed, because he didn’t send flowers.  He tried to send flowers.  I was hurt, because we didn’t go out to dinner.  He tried to make dinner reservations.  I felt unloved, because I wanted flowers.  I definitely did not make things easy for him.

The problem was I had these grandiose expectations in my head of what should happen on Valentine’s Day.  When my husband failed to meet these unrealistic expectations, I felt unloved.  I erroneously defined our relationship by whether he brought me flowers or not. I let my happiness be dependent on someone else. 

I now realize the insanity in this way of thinking.  There is no way I can be happy if I continuously rely on someone else to make me happy.  Happiness comes from within, and I create my own happiness.

So this Valentine’s Day I have a proposal for all of us who have been dependent on someone else for our happiness.  I propose that we forget what others think of us or do for us and just love ourselves!

This Valentine’s Day stop worrying if your husband or boyfriend is going to send flowers.  This Valentine’s Day forget about the chocolate, mushy love notes, and sexy lingerie.  This Valentine’s Day stop feeling sorry for yourself if you don’t have a date.  This Valentine’s Day we start a new tradition.  One that is far more beneficial to our sanity and well-being.  This Valentine’s Day we start loving ourselves.  “How are we going to do this," you ask?  Below are just a few of my ideas, but I’m sure there are many more.

Love yourself enough to stop worrying whether you have a date or not.

Love yourself enough to spend some time on your own.

Love yourself enough to call a friend, read a book, or take a bubble bath.

Love yourself enough to schedule a massage or a pedicure or both!

Love yourself enough to eat chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream while watching “Magic Mike.”

Love yourself enough to take care of your mind and body. Go outside.  Go for a walk.  Go for a hike.  Go for a run.  Just Go!

Love yourself enough to learn new things.  Visit the museum, an art gallery, or the library.  Take a class.  Join a group.  Learn how to juggle!

Love yourself enough to laugh out loud.

Love yourself enough to take a chance.

Love yourself enough to stand up for what you believe in.

Love yourself enough to walk away from those who hurt you.

Love yourself enough to let go of the past.  (If not now, when?)

Love yourself enough to forgive yourself. 

Love yourself enough to live in the present.

Love yourself enough to hope for the future.

Love yourself enough to face your fears.

Love yourself enough to try a little harder.

Love yourself enough to forgive.

Love yourself enough to move forward.

Love yourself enough to open your heart.

Love yourself enough to love a little more.

Above all, love yourself enough to know you are worth it.

Because you most certainly are. :o)

Get Mad Then Get Over It

“I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes,

I am out of control and at times hard to handle.

But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”

~ Marilyn Monroe

I have a confession.  I have to come clean.  I can’t keep it a secret any longer.  So here it is.  Sometimes I don’t feel so very grateful and forgiving.  Sometimes I am just really pissed off.  And yes, sometimes “I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure.”  And I don’t want to be grateful or forgiving.  I want to be mad.  I want to be angry and rage against assholes and mean people and the establishment.  I want to stomp my feet, pound my fists against the bars of my self-made prison and raise some hell. 

Sometimes I want to tell my ex-husband to “go fuck himself.”  Other times I’d really like to tell my boss to “kiss my ass.”  At times I fantasize telling my dad “to shut the hell up” or asking my mom, “Why the hell are you such a bitch?”

 

Recently I found these really cool cards that instead of saying “Thank You” say “Fuck You.”  I’m pretty sure these cards could come in quite handy.  First, I could send a “Fuck You” card to my divorce attorneys whom I paid thousands of dollars for absolutely nothing.  While I’m at it, I’d send a little note to the idiot bureaucrat at the Child Support Enforcement Office who lost my paperwork that fondly says, “Fuck You, Asshole.” Lastly, I’d make a list of all the men who have ever pretended to care about me but fucked me over and send them all “Fuck You. With love, Donna” cards.

Colin Powell tells us to “Get mad.  Then get over it.”  Maybe I don’t want to get over it. Maybe I want to be just plain mad.

It is okay to be angry.  Anger is simply a feeling not a behavior.  So while I like to fantasize about sending “Fuck You” cards, I won’t.  As Melody Beattie says in The Language of Letting Go, “Feeling angry – and sometimes, the act of blaming – is a natural and necessary part of accepting loss and change – of grieving.  We can allow ourselves and others to become angry as we move from denial toward acceptance.”  Feeling our emotions is especially important to those of us who may have grown up in an environment where it wasn’t okay to express our emotions.  We were told we were “too sensitive” or “overreacting.”  So we squashed our emotions and lived in fear of feeling anything.  Emotions are a part of living, and to suppress them is not healthy.
 
Recently I met a man at a friend’s Thanksgiving dinner. Over the course of the evening we talked about visiting other countries, our careers, and our sons who are both a little different.  I could see behind his somewhat nerdy glasses and geeky exterior that he could actually be quite sexy.  More importantly, I found him to be genuine.  So I asked him to my office Christmas party, and he said, “Yes.” 

Over the course of the next three weeks, we traded texts and talked on the phone.  I invited him to dinner and sliced vegetables and prepared chili while we talked about our lives.  We shared our pasts, our dreams, and our fears. We became fairly close in a relatively short period of time.  He even read my blog and didn’t run away.  Our relationship was sweet and innocent.  We never even kissed.  He was the wisest, kindest, most gentle man I had ever met.  And he liked ME.  Not the blond hair, blue-eyed, petite me.  But the domestic violence survivor, twice-divorced, and still rough around the edges me.  At least, so I thought.  I am not even quite sure what happened, but he eventually did become scared and no longer wanted to pursue a relationship with me.  He ran away.

I was hurt, angry, pissed off, and terribly disappointed.  I wanted to stomp my feet and pound my fists.  I wanted to scream “Why?!  I don’t understand!”    On the day he told me he didn’t want a relationship, I came home to find a package on my porch containing the stupid dress I had ordered to go to the party.  I unpacked my suitcase and found the stupid scarf I bought at the airport shop to wear as a wrap around my shoulders.  I cried.  And then cried some more.

I hadn’t been looking for anyone.  I was practicing the lesson of letting go - “Let go, and let God.”  I had resigned myself that when the timing was right, the Universe would put the right person in front of me. So I thought this kind man was that person.  What hurt most was thinking that if this kind and gentle man could not find it in his heart to care for me, who would?    

Melody Beattie continues, “We won’t stay angry forever.  But we may need to get mad for a while as we search over what could have been, to finally accept what is.”

I know I won’t stay angry forever.  But I’m allowing myself to be mad for a while longer as I come to terms with what I thought the relationship could have been and accept how it really is.  I have a right to get mad.  If a man does not have the courage to accept me with all my scars and broken pieces, to hell with him.  I should get pissed off and stomp my feet and yell at the top of my lungs.  Because “if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”  I love, I laugh, and I cry.  And if you allow me to care for you yet don’t have the guts to follow through, you deserve my anger and rage.  And maybe I’ll consider sending you a “Fuck You” card in the mail along with the others. 

I am reminded of the poem by Veronica A. Shoffstall,

After a While

“After a while you learn

the subtle difference between

holding a hand and chaining a soul

and you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning

and company doesn’t always mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts

and presents aren’t promises

and you begin to accept your defeats

with your head up and your eyes ahead

with the grace of woman, not the grief of a child

and you learn to build all your roads on today

because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans

and futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn that even sunshine burns

if you get too much

so you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul

instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure

you really are strong

you really do have worth

and you learn

and you learn

with every goodbye, you learn…”

 
I realize now that after almost two years of therapy and a multitude of self-help books, my heart is still too vulnerable to begin a relationship with a man no matter how kind and gentle he is.  And while it may be tempting to have someone hold me and tell me everything will be okay, the task of healing my heart and becoming strong again must be accomplished alone.  Happiness is an inside job, and healing is a solitary journey.  So I’ll “get mad then get over it” and focus on me.  I will plant my own garden and decorate my own soul.  I’ll cultivate big, bright red gerbera daisies; soft, gentle lambs’ ear; and fragrant, calming lavender.  I’ll plant aromatic Asiatic lilies, heirloom foxgloves, and whimsical hollyhocks. 

After all that has happened in my past, I could evolve into a selfish, heartless bitch.  I could harden my heart to caring about anyone ever again.  At times I think I probably should.  It would be easier.  But that’s not who I am.  For some reason, I still believe in the goodness of people.  Even men.  I still believe in love.  I still have hope that somewhere, someday I will meet a man that truly cares for me.  If not, at least I will have me – the blue-eyed, blond hair, broken but put back together with super glue and duct tape, authentic me.

 

Making Peace with my Reflection in the Mirror

“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.”

- Buddha

My therapist says I need to learn to love myself. As much as I love my son. She says I will have a difficult time beginning a new relationship until I do.

Huh? How do I do that? How do I know when I love myself enough? How do I know that I don't love myself right now?

Then it hit me. I don't truly love myself right now. As recently as last week, I was deeply hurt when a genuine, caring, gentle man I had begun dating decided he didn't want to continue the relationship. He was afraid he was not what I needed or that I wasn't ready to start dating again. Immediately I started falling down that dark hole thinking, "What's wrong with me?” I thought, "He doesn't want a relationship with me, because I'm broken. I'm not whole. I'm defective. I'm tarnished. Tainted. No one will ever love me again, because I let someone abuse me. Something must be wrong with me because I allowed the abuse to happen". Suddenly, all my insecurities came bubbling up to the surface overwhelming my mind. Again.