Flashback to more than three years ago when a number of mental healthcare professionals (the number is more than 2 and less than 4) all told me on the same day that my biggest problem was that I had absolutely no idea who I was. I fought the urge to respond to each one with a sarcastic “you think?”
Funny how some people can tell you exactly what’s wrong with you (and they may be right) but can’t necessarily tell you what you can do to fix it. They may prescribe medication or some form of therapy or give you some “homework” to do and I’m not saying that those things aren’t helpful or even lifesaving in some instances but they don’t necessarily work for everyone, all of the time. I’m also not knocking any professional confronted with these issues; we all do the best we can with what we can...right?
Thing is, I look back and totally acknowledge the diagnosis was accurate. I had absolutely no idea who I really was. And all the homework elicited were some feeble lists on things I thought I liked or things that I thought functioning humans have to do.
Flashforward to June 2018 and it only took one person in tune with life to look me in the eye and tell me that I didn’t love myself. This too was an accurate diagnosis.
The difference between flashforward and flashback is that by the time June rolled around I was so so tired of not loving myself. You could have looked at my life and seen all of the bits of evidence but there was one biggie glaring me in the face; how on earth was I allowing myself to stay in a romantic relationship that may have literally killed me. Initially, taking responsibility for the fact that I had created it – that he was my mirror - was the most difficult thing to accept. But then what?
Elizabeth Gilbert said "I've never seen any life transformation that didn't begin with the person in question finally getting tired of their own bullshit." I believe her. I wasn’t just tired. I was fucking exhausted.
So, if the problem was that I didn’t love my myself then the answer would simply be to love myself n’est pas? Simple, yes. Easy, not so much.
Why? Because in the weeks that followed (what followed was my Ibogaine journey and some serious introspection and integration) I realised that it’s not possible to love something that you do not know, understand and accept.
Why am I saying this? Because if there’s a part of you that’s feeling unloved especially if it’s a lack of self-love, it’s my usual not-so-humble opinion that you can do affirmations until the cows come home, go to yoga until pigs fly and follow a macrobiotic diet until the fat lady sings (let’s not judge her, she just doesn’t know self-love yet) but you will not know what it means to really love yourself until you figure out if you know yourself. Do you? Do you really know yourself? Hint: if just the thought of genuinely thinking you’re fucking awesome makes you feel guilty, angry, selfish or scared, you probably don’t.
If you don’t...why not start?
Don’t know where to start? Ask someone who’s been there. Ask someone you trust. Heck, maybe ask yourself.
So much love for you.
Irani