I want to begin with an apology. And an open letter.
To Whom This Letter Applies,
I want my new year to be filled with love, and to you, I know I have shown little.
I want to tell you that I am deeply sorry for mistreating you. For years of hurt, anger and unkindness shown to you.
I'm sorry for not listening to your mind. I'm sorry not letting you finish your thoughts, or finding value in your opinion. I'm sorry for not trusting that your contribution was worthy of adding something remarkable, worthwhile or memorable to the clatter. (I was willing to let others show themselves fools over allowing you to reveal yourself wise.) And in such way, I'm sorry for publicly dishonoring you. For speaking often of your weaknesses and failing to present your strengths, and for constantly second-guessing your voice.
I'm sorry for demanding so much of you: more than anyone can handle. I'm sorry for continually giving you the blame and for failing to relieve you of the burden of responsibility. I placed expectations unending on you. For no gain at all. I'm sorry for pushing you beyond your limits. For consistently downgrading your accomplishments and requiring always more (and thus making it impossible to finish).
I'm sorry for always comparing you. Against my peers, my peer-models and my own perspective of perfection. My criticism toward you reached new levels daily and I was continually finding fault, guilt, and blame. I am sorry for this. The shame I pour over you does not motivate you, inspire you or give you an ability to flourish. I see the way it cripples you and yet I do not relent.
I'm sorry for not acknowledging your needs. For failing to give you your own space. For reprieve. For an ability to be recharged and rejuvenated and given the opportunity to succeed. I've failed to understand what boundaries need to be observed and how best to let you live.
But perhaps what reached my deepest level of sorrow was last year with the loss of your baby. I empathized with you, but secretly I blamed you. Yet again, without concern for your voice, your heart, your value... I gave you the burden of responsibility and in anger and unkindness, I did not realize how broken and in need you were. I blamed you. Your heart was crushed but I made lists of mistakes, of shortcomings or failures. I lined you against my friends and failed to see their miscarriages, but yours I saw plainly. It was your fault. And you were without forgiveness.
Dear sweet Self. I apologize. My hatred against Self gains me nothing. Muting your voice, comparing you, ushering shame into your tender heart, and finding continual fault and responsibility is wrong. You cannot always be to blame. Theo Roosevelt said that "Comparison is the thief of joy." -- He was right.
To you, my tender Self, I commit to love this year. I want to learn about what makes you come alive, what makes you dance, what makes you feel inspired and motivated. I want to see you flourish and find life enchanting and intoxicating. I want to see your body and spirit healthy and thriving. I adore you, Self. You are the one thing my life has always had in constant and for the remarkable twists and turns in life, I want to rest assured that you know I am always on your side. Your efforts, your voice, your ability... they are worthy.
Self, find this year new. Find me in unity with you, no longer writhing in self-hatred and loathing your company. You are beautiful and brilliant. You are creative and inspiring. I love you.
Go, my sweet Self: Love life.
CLTD
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