I am realizing more and more
That the work I have to do
Isn’t about improving myself,
But learning to love myself
Fully and completely.
I have wounds that may never heal.
There are parts of me that may always be weak and fragile.
The hard and grueling work I need to do
Isn’t to pound myself into shape
Like molten steel on leaden anvil,
Nor to become some kind of living god,
But probably still hate myself hence.
That’s not how people grow.
The seed sprouts,
The tree grows,
The flower blossoms,
All it requires
Is enough nourishment and sunlight.
Likewise all one needs to grow
Is enough love and encouragement,
And wise acceptance.
It’s so hard to love myself as I am,
When all my life I’ve wanted to be so much more.
I’ve felt held down by the burden of imperfection
For so many years,
And all my striving has done nothing to change that.
I’ll do one more ayahuasca ceremony,
Or maybe some more breath work,
And it’ll really do the job this time.
All the burdens, pain, and insecurity I’ve ever carried,
They’ll end up in the bucket with my issues with relationships,
And blocks around abundance.
This time it’ll be the one,
To let go of all the things I’ve ever struggled with.
I’m sure of it.
I’ve grown and changed in so many ways,
But I am also the same person I have always been.
In fact, I am all of the versions of myself I have ever been,
Somewhere deep within the layers of myself.
There are parts of myself I hate to visit,
Ugly, painful, shameful things.
And I’m coming to the point where I’m starting to realise,
That no amount of self-improvement,
Can make these parts of myself go away.
The crucial question then is,
Do I continue to hate and reject some parts of me?
To schism and disown the parts I feel ashamed of,
When the truth is,
Even if I bury them under mountains of personal growth,
These parts will always be there.
The only option then is to make these parts okay.
Instead of glaring issues that I fiercely reject,
They are transformed into beautiful imperfections.
The hard work I have to do,
Is to learn to love myself,
For the parts I love the least.
If I can fully accept myself,
Perhaps my burdens will also blossom,
Like seeds burst into the soil,
When fed the proper nutrients.
I pull another chair to the table,
And invite my demons to sit down,