Jan 1. Making a friend

When I wrote this post, I didn’t anticipate the response it would get. The minutes and hours after I pressed published went something like this inside my head:

Thank God, it’s done. I’m so relieved.

But then, someone clicked like.

Oh shit. Someone read it. They’re judging me, I know they are. Oh god. No. Why did you do that? You’re an idiot! Undo! Abort!

After moments of panic, someone posted a comment. And then more people joined. These were close friends, family, people I’d known years ago and haven’t talked to in ages.

The responses I got were heartfelt, and warm and beautiful. I’ve never felt so embraced before. People had said things like that before, but this was different. This time, I heard them. I believed what they said.

Hallelujah, I thought. I’m cured. I’m healed. It’s over, and it didn’t even take a whole year.

If you know anything about humans, and you aren’t trying to kid yourself, as I as, you’ll know this wasn’t the case. Nothing that took years to cement in my mind is going to be exfoliated away in minutes, or even hours. Ideas that have shellacked themselves to your very soul are reluctant to leave.

Which left me in much the same place that I was before. There is no instant fix for this. This will be a journey, and a hard fought one at that. I’m ready for that. But where do I start? I’ve never done this before. I can’t find a map. I can’t find any hobbits to lead the way, not even the all knowing Google can tell me.

I’ve spent a lot of hours this mulling over, and I’ve come to a simple conclusion. When I boil down the problem to it’s most elemental form, it is this: I don’t like myself.

So, first step in this year of healing: Make a new friend. Me.

I’ve tried this before, friending myself. Usually it involved something like: Workout more, wear more makeup, smile more, read more. BE more. And then you’ll like yourself.

That’s just plain silly.

I would never walk up to one of my friends and say

“Hi, Joan, I’d really like to like you. First, you’re gonna need to shed some weight, though. Oh, and pick up cooking. And learn french. Then, we’ll be fast friends.”

First, I have no friends named Joan. Second, if I did, Joan would surely, and with justification, slap me in the face. I love my friends as they are. I love them for WHO they are. Not who I want them to be, or who they might someday be. I love them now, with all their flaws, all their quirks.

First step, love me. Now. As I am. Love all the things I hate about myself, all the things I wish I could change. Love all of it. All of me. I need to be a good friend to myself.

It’s January first, and as the internet has memed to death: Today is the first page in a 365 page book. On that page, I’ve written: Friend Request Sent.