Self-Love Can Be A Finicky Business

I was made fun of a lot as a kid because of my physical appearance. My last post was a lamentation detailing my futile efforts to figure out self-love. I picked the concept apart, but that brought confusion. I asked questions to readers hoping to receive clarity, like whether changing my physical appearance in order to hide it or enhance it is self-love or self-hate.

For example, make-up. Is wearing make-up a form of self-hate because I’m hiding my natural face? Or is wearing make-up an act of self-love because it makes me feel good?

I was sure that self-love means I should at least be comfortable with my natural face in public.

That post has been read zero times.

BUT, this morning during meditation it dawned on me that self-love is love for yourself on a level that surpasses the physical; it’s a deep soul connection. The crux of self-love is to know who I truly am, and the rest begins to fall into place. This felt familiar, like I already knew that but the concept of self-love had become hazy as if swept into a fog of confusion.

I’d been putting too much emphasis on the physical aspect of self-love, like should I douse my curls with chemical-filled products before leaving the house?

Self-love is addressing the negative emotions that arise when I look in the mirror. If something about my physical appearance always strikes a sinking feeling inside then that is worth examining.

Self-love is the process of investigating that negativity and then unlearning the conditioning that brought me to that point. In other words, I’m healing childhood wounds. We unknowingly hold onto trauma and it manifests in many different ways in our lives, such as feelings of unworthiness or fear of abandonment.

Self-love is choosing to accept the parts of myself the world made out to be ugly over making those parts palatable for the world.

I am so much more than those parts. I am the sum of all my parts, and this weird little jigsaw puzzle is unique. The universe has only ever had and will only ever have one me, and I’m doing myself and the world a disservice by not being completely, wholly, authentically me. I exist at this point in time, and I don’t believe that’s an insignificant thing.

We are all here to be our authentic selves. A chance encounter with a stranger has the power to change a person’s life, but we may not be able to fulfill that purpose if we live out of our insecurities rather than live authentically.

I can’t move through the world authentically if I don’t love all of myself. Moving through the world in a self-conscious way, or hiding parts of myself, is not an authentic way to live. It’s also pointless because I swear humans come with a built-in device that tugs ever so subtly when someone is putting on a front. We are meant to be ourselves, and in order to do that we must love every bit of ourselves.

Self-love is making happiness a priority, and happiness can be a finicky business because in order to attain it we must be brutally honest with ourselves. Am I truly happy, or am I convincing myself that I’m happy?

If I want to wear makeup, I will and not because I’m hiding or enhancing some part of myself.

I may tuck my curly hair into a bun or just go out into the world and risk birds moving into it. It’s not far-fetched. I once finger-combed a mangled spider out of my hair.

I will eat and exercise for my health rather than for my body.

Self-love is a process and I’m figuring it out the more I practice it. Honestly, moving through the world less self-conscious sounds so freeing. It would be nice not to care about the Judgy McJudgersons of the world, and the only armour against them is self-love.