, , , , , , ,

I’ve had a breakthrough.

After a few days of self-loathing, bouts of crying, insomnia, and moments of defeat followed by moments of depression and more self loathing I’ve finally figured it out.  The problem is not the men in my life that seem to slip through my fingers like water, but me.

I have been fighting tooth and nail to not come to this conclusion, but I can say that it doesn’t feel as bad as I thought it would to put the blame on me. I can take responsibility for my own actions, and own them.

So to start:

I’ve created every shitty relationship I have ever had.

I have brought every heartache onto myself.

I have attracted every moment of single-ness into my life.

Phewww!! It feels damn good to say that! Being held accountable for my own mistakes, and knowing what I’ve been doing “wrong” or not enough of, means I can fix it. I can fix myself. I can’t fix every man out there to fit me and my needs, that would be trying to do the impossible, but I can definitely fix me.

What is possible is restoring the confidence I once had in myself. Putting myself back together. Doing a serious overhaul of my former self, so the new–no, correction–the REAL me can finally shine through. I can’t just keep saying that I need to work on myself, this time I have to actually do it. I am going to roll up my sleeves and get dirty. I mean business this time folks. I am sick and tired of being down in the dumps all the time and feeling sorry for myself.

I just recently picked up “Calling in ‘The One'” and started re-reading it, again. For the third time. This should have been a huge red flag that I obviously wasn’t ready for love. However, looking back, and doing a little digging while I was plagued with insomnia, I figured out that I didn’t want love the way you should want love. I wanted it to validate the beliefs I had about myself. I wanted a man to prove to me that I was pretty, that I was lovable, that I was sexy. The trouble with that was, how can a man prove those things to me, when I don’t even believe I possessed those traits?

As I flipped through the pages, it was like I was reading the book for the first time. Each word was new to me, and resonated deeper than it did the first two times I had read them.  I guess the first time I was so desperate for a man to come and save me from my loneliness, that I didn’t realize I wasn’t doing the most pertinent exercises that I needed to do in order to bring him in naturally. I sped through the book, skipping passages, exercises, meditations, and journal entries. I just wanted to get to the end so the love of my life would magically appear. That’s what was promised, right? Read the book and find love. Right? Wrong. Dead wrong.  Read the book and do the exercises, work through all of your issues, your problems, and baggage, and when you truly, and wholeheartedly love yourself, then and only then will you be in a position to finding your true love.

I knew this time would be different. This time I would take every exercise seriously. Take the time to journal. Because this time I am not just looking for ‘The One’, I am looking for myself.

This is really significant work that has to be done to build myself back up so I can have a healthy relationship with not just the opposite sex, but with people in general.

I can be so god damn nasty sometimes for no good reason! I was probably just annoyed at the world that day. Every one sucked. I barely ever smile anymore. I hate when people talk to me. I hate when people get too close. I hate sitting next to people on the bus. I hate when…. let me stop right here, because this can go on forever.

You get the point, I’m not a very happy camper. The fact that I can’t be bothered on even my good days, is a huge indicator of what’s going on inside. Something is broken and I need to fix it.

Today, on my way to work, as I looked out the window of the bus I saw a couple of full-figured girls/women outside of a Lane Bryant posing and taking pictures in front of the store.  It seemed like an event. The girls were dressed up (super chic, if I might add) and they worked that camera like no one was watching. But in fact everyone was. It wasn’t because they weren’t your typical paper thin models, but they were real women. They were full-figured, and full of confidence. I am a size 4 and there is no way in hell I would have had even a small percentage of the guts these women had to stand outside of a store in the middle of midtown posing in front of a bunch of strangers.

I would have been afraid that my tummy was bulging out, or my arms looked too fat, or my hair looked like shit, or my face was doing something weird. But these girls… these girls worked it. I couldn’t help but stare. I was drawn in by their ease in front of the camera, and the people on the street they’ve never seen before.

Then I had a thought that, if a man had to choose between me and one these girls, if it came down to it the full-figured girl with all her confidence would surely win, without a doubt.

I had no confidence anymore. I didn’t think I was particularly pretty. I thought my hair could be better. I needed to fix my teeth. I had horrible dark circles. I’m too busty, and my ass is gigantic. Who the hell would want me? If  sizes 14-20 thought they were beautiful, and man they really were, what the hell was my problem?

I have to stop the pity parties, and start loving myself again.  A great way I’ve found to really help with confidence issues is to ask yourself, what would your friends say about you?

They would say I’m funny, helpful, smart, giving, fun, forgiving, loyal, quiet, outgoing–sometimes with the right about of tequila, talented, a good cook when I wanna be, a great hostess, I always have the best shoes, laid back, good under pressure, terrible with directions, a good driver -when I don’t have road rage, and I have an impeccable sense of fashion. 😉

Just by writing that, I felt a little bit better. I’m not all that bad, but I still need more work. I’ve got a long ways to go, and the journey ahead is going to be tough, it’s going to hurt. I am going to purge all of the crap inside me that has stopped me from being happy. I am going to finally knock that wall down, and the real me is going to shine through. If I end up with someone or not, I know that at least I have myself.

The REAL me.

The REAL me.