April 30, 2019
It hit me today like a ton of bricks.
I’ve spent my entire life living for other people.
I could never enjoy, nor gain true pleasure from things – whether personal success, or an evening with friends. Nothing was ever good enough.
I remember listening to a rendition of “Stairway to Heaven” with my father on one of our many road trips we took when I was younger. It was truly a beautiful moment – father and son listening and trying to find our own personal meaning to the song. My Dad turned to me and asked, “What did you think?” All I could muster was that the musician played a chord incorrectly.
In social circles rather than being comfortable in my own skin, I became a chameleon, pretending to be something I was not to gain the approval of someone on the rubber chicken circuit.
On my first night of my first attempt at recovery at Brentwood, there was a young man playing the guitar and he was singing. I stopped, mesmerized by the words and the emotion the musician had. I did not know why until now:
My head’s under water
But I’m breathing fine
You’re crazy and I’m out of my mind
‘Cause all of me
Loves all of you.
Sure, it’s a love song – but it can also be a song about loving my inner child – all his good qualities and all the dark destructive characteristics. All his “perfect imperfections.”
As I stood there, the musician pointed at me and said, “He’s feelin’ it” with tears streaming down my face.
I finally understand today why I was crying.
I’ve never loved me. I’ve never accepted myself – with all my perfect imperfections.
And if I can’t love myself, how the fuck am I supposed to love anyone or anything, totally, completely, and unconditionally?
I can’t – and the last two years, hell, my entire life up to today is testament to that.
