Love Me, Too

The other week I wrote that all any part of me wants is love and presence. Ever since I said, “I love you” to my fearful part, it's as if I triggered a rock slide, and now other parts are popping up and saying, “What about me? Do you love me, too?”

The practice is a difficult one because so much of my life has been geared toward fighting, toward struggling, to talking back. For instance, if I think I'm fat, my response will be, “No you're not.” I don't allow for the thought to even exist. Since the other week though and learning to love a part I previously only pushed away, instead of fighting back, I'm saying, “OK Rebekah. So what if you are? I love your body no matter what. If it's fat, if it's thin, if it's not functioning the way you want it to, I love it, and you anyway.”

I feel vulnerable even typing that because it's true, what I long for is unconditional love and I've withheld it from myself in a never-ending quest toward an unattainable ideal. I think there's also a fear if I shower myself with unconditional love that I'll become an inert blob, but the truth is, love doesn't mean constant indulgence. Love means compassion, understanding, acceptance, allowance. It means saying to myself, “I see you as you are, right now, and I love you anyway.” From that place, real change and transformation occurs. Loving my fearful part didn't make me more afraid, quite the opposite. Loving my fearful part gave me a sense of relief and peace unlike any I've experienced before.

Can I love it all? I'm working on it. Photo by Roman Kraft on Unsplash.

My spiritual practice promotes the cultivation of love. Of viewing everything as an expression of an infinite loving consciousness, of trying to grow the internal feeling of love. Our goal is to love all living beings and to merge ourselves in the source of that feeling. To swim in an ocean of love. The thing is though, if I keep believing some parts of me are not worthy and deserving of love, there's no way I can give myself over to that ocean. It's like saying, “Your legs are allowed to wade into the water, but your arms have to stay dry.” I can't experience complete merger until I'm completely submerged.

What I'm coming to here is recognizing, again, all parts of me want love. My body wants love, my mind wants love, my emotions want love. The cool thing is I can give that to myself. I don't have to wait for some imagined future that may never come. I don't have to wait for someone else to come along and say, “I love all parts of you unconditionally.”

If you had asked me five years ago whether I loved myself, I would have said yes because I said affirmations and treated myself with kindness. I checked all the boxes people listed when they spoke of self-love. Now though I've reached a new level of love because it's not just looking in the mirror and saying I love you. It's saying I love you to the part of me that says mean things. It's saying I love you to the part of me that's disappointed. It's saying I love you to everything, regardless of my judgment of the part. Now the answer to the question, “Do you love me, too?” is “Yes.”

I dream of a world where we love all parts of ourselves, even the parts we don't particularly like. A world where we recognize every part is worthy and deserving of love. A world where we work toward loving ourselves unconditionally.

Another world is not only possible, it's probable.