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I have been on this Earth for 29 years and during that time I have spent a lot of it learning very hard lessons. I have seen cruelty beyond the pale. I've seen people hurt each other just because they could. I've seen snap judgments spiral and grow into deeply rooted prejudice.
I've seen much more hate than I've seen love.

But when I have seen love, or have had the chance to give my own to another, I savored it. I realized how fleeting these moments are. And sadly, how very rare the true expression was, especially if it was of pure intent.

If I could sum my entire life into one take away, one lesson, one promise to myself, it would be this:

I will never let my heart become callous.

This has been my mantra since I was 10 years old.

For 19 years I have lived my life in forgiveness and understanding. I can be absolutely livid with someone but see their side. I can understand (maybe not completely) where they are coming from, even when their actions have harmed me directly. In my head, when these moments happen, even if I cannot bring myself to find a resolution with the person, I embrace them in my mind. I tell them it is okay. And I let them go.

In the last 5ish years I added the "letting go" step. I realized that sometimes... you just can't fix it. It isn't your job to fix it. And sometimes, things cannot be fixed. That is okay. But if it hurts you more than it fills you with happiness, you have to make that decision.

The first time I made that decision was when my last ex boyfriend that I had dated for a total of about 6-7 years and I broke up for the second and final time. I was absolutely destroyed. This person that had hurt me so many years ago, that I had reconciled with, had become the cruelest, most venomous person I had ever met. He told me how ashamed he was to be seen with me because of my weight. That I had become hideous to him. That I was all around a BAD person.

I didn't think I was a bad person. I was always incredibly friendly. I bent over backwards for everyone. I loved him fiercely despite all of his glaring, trivial flaws. I would have braved any fire set before me if he needed me too, and I did. Why... was it too much to expect the same?

And that was when I realized that not all love is given in equals.

And when he let me go, I let him go as well.

Through that trial, and the many that were to follow, I learned to love myself a little more. And more often than I would like to admit, a LOT less. I took that fierce ability to love that I have and I tucked it away on a shelf, in a box with some trinkets, with a half-hearted sentiment that maybe someday... someone will want and NEED it. But more importantly, that someone will DESERVE it.

And I learned to love myself for once. I learned to take compliments (although, not gracefully. Still haven't figured that bit out). I learned to be able to look at myself in the mirror and NOT hear the words of previous exes belittling my body. I learned to acknowledge that my body is nothing more that a vessel that carries around who I am and isn't there for their aesthetic. I learned to forgive myself. A lot.

One of the most important things I learned was this:

Learn to enjoy your own company.

I had spent so much of my life gauging my own happiness and worth by what others brought to my life and not what was already there when I was alone.

ALONE.

That is a word that strikes fear into the heart of any hopeless romantic.

Five years ago, the thought was paralyzing. The idea of not having someone there for me, someone to hold me at night, to tell me they loved me because I could NEVER say that to myself and mean it. Then, one night, I was laying in bed, alone. I was on "my side" and I looked around.

I realized that I was holding space for someone that didn't exist. For someone I didn't need. I slept sideways on my bed that night. I made myself big, I took up space, I asserted myself over my own domain. I gave myself permission to own something that never belonged to anyone else in the first place. Permission to own MYSELF.

I took myself out to dinner. I went for walks. I enjoyed the quiet. I relished making decisions on my own without worry about another person. I ate the last piece of cake because I had no one to save it for. I stayed up late or went to bed early, the same for rising. I learned to be comfortable with just being with me. At the end of the day, that is all you have. Is you, in your own head, and you will be together until the day you die. Literally.

I stayed alone until I never felt lonely.
What this has done for me can be summed up in many different ways, all of them positive. But the biggest one of all:

I can now love someone because they compliment me, not because I NEED them to complete me.

And it is the best thing I have ever done for myself.