Hopes and Dreams and Scattered Things

Hopes and dreams,

and scattered things

and I can’t find myself

a part of me is missing

lost in the cares of life

that kept my dreams at bay

a part of me is missing

don’t you hear what I say

a part of me is missing

and I want it back today

woke up today

did not know where I was

why was I living

someone else’ dream

here I go again giving away self

just to get some loving

I’m asking me

where I be

and who is this we are

what happened to my dream

is it on a shelf, in a jar

waiting

while I follow some one else’ star

has it died

or just been deferred

will I go back to sleep

or finally wake up

knowing

everything has a price

love is never enough

if the price is myself

hopes and dreams

and scattered things

and I can’t find myself

What I know about love has been hard-earned.  I once thought sex was love.  I believed if I gave my partner enough mind-blowing sex they would love me like I craved to be loved.  I had no concept of self-love.  When someone usually a therapist or a well-meaning friend would say you have to love yourself first.  I always thought to myself that it was easier said than done.  They would make the statement as if it were so easy.  Something that comes naturally to all of us.

What the hell did loving self-love look like?  I tried all the things I thought self-love was.  I faithfully went to the hair stylist and nail technician.  I made sure I had my pedicures and nice clothes.  I would even take myself out to dinner or cook a candle light dinner at home with a bubble bath and sexy lingerie.  None of these activities filled the gaping hole in my heart.

I have had lovers that made my every wish their command and still I did not know love.  I have done things trying to acquire love that put my life at risk just to be loved unconditionally by somebody, anybody.  That feeling of safety is what you get in the first years of life from your parents.  A normal childhood does not come with worries about closing your eyes at night.

I misplaced my trust and allowed people into my life that did not deserve to be there and meant me no good.

My journey to love started when I got real with myself.  When I forgave myself for believing that it was my fault that bad things happened to me as a child.  When I was able to tell the little girl inside me that she did nothing wrong.  I told her it was okay to be afraid and vulnerable.  I told her I would protect her from harm to the best of my abilities.  I promised her that when I knew better I would do better.  I had to rely on my instinct to always do what was in my own best interest.

I had to mother myself.  Even after having six children of my own I could not tell you what mother love embodied.  I could not relate to a close mother child relationship where your mother would give her life to protect you.  That was a foreign concept to me.  I sometimes weep knowing what my children and I missed out on.

That explains why it was so easy for me to detach from people.  Because of the neglect I endured as a child my ability to bond was disabled.  People became disposable.  But as the years went on I started to notice the pattern and through therapy and self-help books I discovered the pathology of my family of origin.

As I gained an understanding of myself I was able to forgive.  Forgiving myself was an act of self-love.  Now because I recognize love when I see it, I have boundaries and I don’t allow anyone to disrespect me nor do I disrespect others.  I understand that how I treat others is a direct reflection of how I feel about myself.  Hence the golden rule “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

I love me enough to teach you how to treat me by the way I treat you.