There was a time in my life when I didn’t know how to love myself. I questioned everything I did, why I did it, what I was gonna do with myself, and why would I think the thoughts I thought. I was rather insecure, a cry baby, and extremely sensitive to everything. Getting picked on during this time period was the worst, I had to go to a self esteem group in the guidance office for it, though it really didn’t help much. It actually wasn’t until I became a freshman that I slightly toughened up. But I still didn’t really love myself, but I still embraced others. I gave everyone else the love and worry and care that they needed, because not only would it make them feel better, but it made me feel good that I could make someone smile, someone a little more confident in themselves, especially when I didn’t know how to. So in a way, helping others, I helped myself. I became the secret keeper, the advice giver, the one who offered hugs when you needed them the most. The quiet girl in the back, who was absolutely crazy with her closest friends, but was always approachable.
The next year I joined a few clubs, became a little more social. With that widened social group, I learned that being nice was good, but being too nice would get you teased and picked on. After a while you just become a cute little thing that everyone loves. I’d constantly get hugs, and randomly lifted from how tiny I was (and am, but thankfully not as tiny as before). I remained the mediator, between friends and people I knew for a few days. I had so many “friends” that I began to question which ones were real and which weren’t. So I tried a little thing where I became the weirdest person ever, only the craziest of friends would stay with me, weeded out the weak as some would say. Heck, I even started to actually do theatre. I was a 9 year old little boy who thought he was a brown bear. Granted this weird me carried onto the cruise that I went on that year, after that cruise I became somewhat of a mess with a relationship with a guy from Kentucky. Didn’t end pretty, and I definitely did not love myself then.
Come junior year, I was a little more confident in myself. I’ve started dating my first kiss from the cruise. I tried to be my best me for him that was possible. Even if it meant hiding the majority of my clingy-ness from my constant need of attention that I had, because well, he made me feel good. Like I could do anything, I could be anything. Only hoping I did the same for him, so when he needed space, I gave space. So much space because I knew he had his own life, I wasn’t gonna pull him away from it just to talk to me through a computer or iPod. Skipping a bit, when that ended, my world crashed. I was so lost, with the loss of my uncle, and then the loss of him, I completely lost whatever of myself I even had. There was no way I could love myself, no way I could ever embrace the person I was. So I did what I did best. I faked it. I faked confidence, I went with the flow. I said sure to whatever, going into a relationship I probably wasn’t even completely ready for. So I faked being the best girlfriend ever, got attached anyways, and let him into my life. A little too much into my life. I gave a few stories about my past, and then after a while I became distant. Because I grew afraid, of getting hurt again. With that fear, I faked everything. Though I was attached, I faked being the best girlfriend, till I could convince myself I was. Faked it till I would make it. I never made it. But I did end up hanging out with some of the best people ever, who indeed, showed me how to love myself, even if it was only a little.
That summer break was like the turning point of this highschool story. I was still in a slump, still upset, and with little to no motivation. I slept in a dark room during the day, since it had no windows, and headed out once in a while to meet up with a friend in Manhattan, or to walk the city alone. My mind would be blank, and only with music bouncing around in my head from my headphones. I spoke with some friends over messenger, cried more because I was told some of the people I thought were friends, really weren’t my friends. And then he came back in my life and smacked some light back into me. Told me not to let a boy be the end of my “spark”. Though he was in a relationship with someone, and so we became close friends once more. Star crossed cruise lover, to silence, to friends again. In this sequence, I realized I never completely got over him, and I hated myself for it for a while. But he gave me some motivation, and at this point, I was desperate for some motivation. I looked at colleges, I started to sing again, I tried to go to an openhouse for an arts academy. I returned to NC with a goal to come back to NY for college. I was slowly picking myself back up.
I became so busy, busy with myself, busy making myself busy. Occupying myself till I couldn’t just sit in a room for longer than a minute. I needed to do things, I needed to improve. I worked on myself. I sang, and I practiced a little bit of instruments (that i still have yet to master), I acted to my best ability, and I took dancing back up. With his help, I began to appreciate myself for me, but not quite. I still had a piece of me missing, that I absolutely hated. Skipping a bit more. I’m dating him again.
Jokes about plans of revenge, that could have been taken seriously, or shrugged off. Warnings and reminders of how broken I was the first time. And I dated him again anyways. And i’m happy. With myself. He was so much more vital to me than I realized. With him, and my best of friends, they put me back together. They plucked out the worst in me and told me, it’s okay. Every flaw, every quirk, it’s who I was, and that’s what made me who I am. It’s what made them support me so much, care for me, worry for me. Hey, if these goofs could love me this much despite everything about me, why couldn’t I love myself? I started to accept myself as they accepted me. I learned to love myself, so I could care for them more. I learned to love myself for reasons that would completely contradict this entire post, yet at the same time make so much sense.
So here I am, typing this novel-esque status. Basically saying, senior year, its been the best year so far. I learned to love myself, I have the best friends ever, the most caring and loving boyfriend ever. All these people in my life, Karen, Jaylynn, Grayson, these people made me proud. With their achievements, and at the same time, helping me piece myself back together when I was in my worst. So here I am, in tears because of the journey I’ve made in highschool. The 4 years that i’ve spent 3 of hating myself, and the 1 year I finally accepted myself. Because of the genuine love i’ve received, made up for all the love I gave. Except this love was not love I could give away. It was love they’ve invested into me, to make sure I could love myself. And it worked.
Senior year.
The last year of what people would say “the easiest part of your life”.
This struggle to love myself.
It’s all over now.
Senior year.
I learned how to love myself, and I learned who in my life deserves to be loved. Over these few years, the best of the best have stayed with me, and have supported me. Rarely have they hurt me and not made up for it 10x than the damage done. Because of them I’m more confident in myself. Some people would say, it’s rather sad I needed other people to learn to love myself. Well, that’s fine. I’m just glad they’re in my life. I’m glad they could help me grow. I can confidently say that yes, I love myself. With so much more love to spare for the world, but for now, they’re on a mainstream current to my friends and my love. Because of them, I could make it on my own. But lets just hope they stay in my life for a very, very long time. ❤
Eight nation 
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