Nineteenth

[Written July 13th, posted now.]

So I was talking to my dad today, and it was unusual for many reasons.

The first being, really, that I was talking to my dad at all. We don't do that often. Our relationship is not a great one, and it has little positive substance for many reasons. It's much better than it used to be, and probably better than it should be for all that's gone on between us.

Second was the topic, which was me. He said sometime he wanted to sit down and talk to me. Listen to me. Have me explain things to him. We have a therapist that every person in my family has talked to, Dr. Skiba. That man is one of my favorites in the whole world. I respect him greatly, and I have, at times, respected him more than my father. Recently, my dad has started having sessions with him. I think it's great. I think my father has a lot to work though, and I know first hand what Paul Skiba can do. I know for a fact that without him I'd have about a billion more issues than I do, and I'm hugely grateful. I know God put him in the lives of my family for a reason, and I love him for it, and I love Paul for who he is and what he's done.

The third strange thing was that the conversation I have with my father actuall got me thinking. That is, honestly, not something he can generally do. But from the session earlier that day, Dr. Skiba had apparently said something about me having developed the ability to love myself.

I was astonished.

My dad then proceeded to say that he'd like to know how I'd managed to do that. how I'd been through all that I had, and be how I am now. I didn't know what to say. I could feel myself naturally closing down, and shutting off to my father. Having that reaction to simply skimming the topic of what I'd been through. Being open and honest with my father was what hurt more than anything else. Why speak to him about the most difficult period of my life now, when he'd been detached and uninterested while it had actually been happening?

What got me most was the way he'd put it. He wanted to know how I'd learned to love myself. My first though when he said that was, "What on earth is he talking about?"

I don't feel like that term applied to me. It baffles me that anyone could think a phrase like that fits me at all. I don't really like myself, most of the time. I can't stand my weight, and all I can generally see of my personality is my flaws. They glare at me, hiss at me, haunt me constantly and overshadow the good. Between my father and my best friend, I have been monumentally screwed up on the male front. Between my weight and the things I've failed at, like high school, my confidence in myself....simply isn't. But...I can still see that I love myself, I love who I am, far more than my father liked himself. He made a point, and he surprised me again. He said that there were things I had done, things that I've managed in 20 years, and he's never pulled off in 52.

And I got thinking. And I remembered that it's all so relative.

The time you have is largely irrelevant. What you do during it, and the choices you make about what you're given...now there is something that matters.

What is more important? That on some random Tuesday, I hated myself and wanted to hide in bed all day, or that I gave my sister a hug and smiled at a stranger who looked a little down? Should I dwell on the fight I had with someone last week, or make sure I tell my mother that I love her and I know how blessed I am that she's in my life? Drown in the fact that I lost my teenage years to illness and got expelled from high school, or rejoice that I still have life to live, things to do, and places to make it to?

Sometimes I can pull off loving myself. Sometimes I like myself. And sometimes I hate myself. Sometimes I'm simply apathetic. But all of it is okay. Because I have an amazing support system of people, family, friends or otherwise, who are all around and loving me. And more than anything, I know that it's all being spear-headed by God. He puts me through stuff...that's for gosh dern sure. But He brings me though everything, too. Even when I forget about His love, and that of the people around me, it's still there.

They love me.
He loves me.
One day...I'll get there entirely, too.

For now, I'm stay content with letting you know something. Whoever you are, I love you. I mean it, even when you forget, it still stands. And it's my wish that you love yourself too, because it's a far cry better than the alternative. But even so, if you do or not, it doesn't change.

I love you.