Self-love is hard enough for most people. It takes awareness, commitment, dedication, work, and appreciation. It does not just happen. There is little that is easy about it… at least until you have had very much practice. And then there might only be a little bit more that is easy about it.
But we are not most people. I think for us self-love is infinitely more difficult.
We have the added, heavily embedded disadvantage of a uniquely held layer and/or feeling of unworthiness. For we are here among the living, and our child is not.
Regardless of the reason for their passing we will always deeply feel a failure in this. There is a reason it is said a parent shouldn’t outlive their child. Here self love seems unreachably distant.
We will never be whole again, not like before. We will never fully heal, but we continually navigate through a healing process.. daily, weekly, yearly. It is never-ending.
It is hard to love one’s self in this ever-present state. But within this navigation we find small things that can be the tiniest of building blocks to our own self love.
I think self-care can be a part of self love, and I am getting better and better at that, but they are still two different things.
For me this morning self love took the shape of braving a drive through stormy weather… complete with lightning, thunder and heavy rain, to a lovely locally family-owned Western wear store for jeans in a nearby town.
Jeans for self-love!?! To be fair I don’t believe I have bought a pair of jeans in over 2 years. I have instead made due. I have also gained 25lbs in those same two years (I know, I know… I am working on it..). But no worries, as we all have a pair (3 in my case) of jeans set aside for when we feel ‘a little bloated’. All three have now become my every day jeans, when not in work clothes.
All three are increasingly in sadder and sadder shape. One to an over exuberant painting day, one to a sneaky, overly chewy puppy, and the last, and best pair, because I just can’t fit anymore without employing the use of a hairband to bridge the button’s reach to the button hole. This also requires the use of a longer than usual shirt, and God forbid it be a windy Oklahoma day.
As you can guess the now continual need of the use of bloaty day jeans, in further worsening condition, has given my sense of self love a pretty good beating.
I have come to realize I don’t just want new jeans. I actually need new jeans. Especially now that I have a new job that allows for jeans, or capris or shorts (not this lady… little, skinny chicken legs).. No use in feeling self conscious or uncomfortable when trying hard to enjoy and become good at my new work.
Honestly I would much rather spend any extra money on my children, my pets and my painting supplies. But out of necessity, and of a bit of embarrassment, I bit the bullet and made the trek out into the weather.
After trying on over a dozen plus 1/2 (not even a full leg up and low and behold a definite bell bottom.. not a good look on this particular short girl), I found three, that are now safely tumbling in my washer at home.. Two that fit very nicely and one really good, slightly ego boosting pair.
Do new jeans always mean self love? Absolutely not.
Do new and correct fitting jeans after two years of increasingly dumpy feeling, while having to wear your sadder, and sadder shaped bloaty day jeans count as a bit of self love?
Today yes… yes they do.
Of Loss and Love 