a return to my true nature… sometime soon.

The real object of our love is not outside of us, the real object of our love is ourselves. We have to know how to love ourselves, know how to return to our true nature, to see the wholesome, the good, the true and the beautiful within us. Then we will be able to see that in others.  ~ Thich Nhat Hanh

i struggle with this repeatedly.  it is something i need to work through, to come to terms with.  in a good way, as in, it is THE way.  there are so many layers of the sludge of history around this truth about myself that i have major difficulty just believing it with out first working through a bunch of mental steps in my head.  that is totally fucked up.

why do i think i’m such a horrible person?  i mean really, i haven’t killed anyone, i haven’t hurt anyone too terribly in life.  sure i’ve been selfish and hateful on occasion, but that stuff only hurts me more than it does anyone else.  why can’t i give myself a freaking break?  shit, now i’m crying.  i have a clue now, because of the memory that brought about these tears.  that freshman year bus ride.  those fucks.  those cruel,  hateful boys.  that was a lesson in diligence right there, because they were diligent in their soul crushing bullying.  i think they wounded me more than getting beat until i crawled the floor pissing myself.  they really did, because i believed them.  i took to heart the worth they placed on me.  this is why i hate them to this day, because i can’t let it go.  it won’t let me go.

those insidious fucks.  as an adult i am so angry at them i could spit.  that sounds funny but it isn’t.  spitting is disgusting and vile.  as a child, which is the perspective that memory is stored away in, it hurts, still, so very badly  there is a pain in my heart.  it’s broken.  those fuckers broke me worse than anyone else has.  and that’s saying something.

i cannot wait until therapy reprocesses this shit.  it is shit, too.  good god, what kind of people do this to another human being?


oh. fuck.  wow.  that just set me on a crying jag that made my hands numb.  nah.  it was weeping.  body wrenching weeping.  wailing and nashing of teeth.  i’m numb all over.  and i could have went on instead of this lingering pathetic noise i’m making still.

it sounded like i might have been giving birth.  maybe.  a serious purge of self loathing so rooted in me that i don’t know how to live with out it.  how terribly sad is that?

i will learn though.  i have to.  because if i can’t love myself, then i can’t love you.  and i really, really want to love you.

the love in me


~ by ghyllee mahree on 2014/09/29.

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