love: VII

love (noun) - an intense feeling of deep affection 

it’s strange, the thought of somebody caring about me. 

before this blog, when I kept all of my feelings and opinions about myself bottled up inside of my head for 20 years, I managed to convince myself that my abuser was right; that nobody would ever be able to care about me, or even look at me, after they found out what he had done to me. 

he ruined how I view myself. he still continues to alter my view of myself, even from beyond the grave.  

after all, my own mother couldn't even bring herself to love me after she found out. but to be honest, I don't really think she ever loved me to begin with. 

when I was 11, terrified and alone and completely void of any kind of positive emotion due to the six continuous year of sexual abuse I just had to endure, my mother and her family abandoned me in favor of protecting the monster that broke me.

nobody ever taught me how to manage all that burden, but they still expected me to have it figured out.

I didn't think I deserved any kind of love. I still don't sometimes. more often than not, I feel as though it would be impossible for someone to love me. why should they? there’s nothing special about me, I have no real talents, my dreams and goals have gone off the trails - some lost forever, some just completely given up on due to my own frustration and crippling self doubt. I thought that nobody would want to listen to me, because what happened to me, and my feelings about everything are so wretched and disgusting, and who would want to waste their time with something and someone so ugly?  

but recently, I've been learning that I'm wrong. people do care about me. people do want to listen to me. since I've started this blog, and built up the courage to shed my insecurities and share it on twitter, Tumblr,  and instagram, the sheer amount of support and love I've received is overwhelming. my own view of myself may still be somewhere dark and negative, but that doesn't mean that it’s how the rest of the world views me. 

in myself, where I see hopelessness, others see courage. where I see weakness, others see resilience. where I see ugliness, others see beauty. where I see a burden, others see a dependable friend, or a brave stranger, a loved one.

my journey to self-love isn't going to be easy. but, that’s okay. because I know I won't be alone for a single step. no matter how long my walk my be, how many times I may falter, or regress, I'll always have people to keep me held up, because they care about me and want me to feel loved.

I have my friends from college, who text/snapchat me when they see something funny that reminded them of me, send me postcards in the mail, invite me to be a part of their special wedding days, and tell me fun secret things about their super cool job that they work so hard for out in LA. 

I have my fellow council members in Chicago, who have been with me during some of the most uncertain times in my adult life. sharing daily memes and tiktoks, helping me when I've been in tough situations because they’re some of the most selfless people I've ever had the blessing of meeting, being my support pillar so I don't crumble. 

I have my friends from high school, who still reach out to check in from time to time even though we’ve all gone our separate ways.

I have my dad, who will forever love me unconditionally. And his entire side of the family, who constantly believe in me and build me up, because they’re proud of me, and because they love me.  

I have people who love me for me. I have people who believe in me. I have people who are proud of me, proud of what I've accomplished as a survivor of something so life destroying and traumatic, because that’s what I am. a survivor. 

my abuser has none of that. no love. no support. not even an obituary as remembrance, because his false pious reputation means nothing as he’s rotting six feet under. he’s gone. and he’s nothing. the world won't even remember his name. with each day, each week, each act of love shown to me from my true family and friends, each word I type out to share for this blog, each moment I learn how to love myself, I free myself bit by bit from his phantom grasp over my soul. 

I'm proud of who I am.

he did not win. he will never win. because I am loved, and he is not.