Permission in Once more, with feeling...

That’s what it feels like, a bit. Like finally being seen, feeling seen, and being and feeling loved, is what allowed me to see and love myself, to accept myself as I am, to be more gentle with myself, more patient.

It feels like you gave me the permission I needed to see myself as okay, as someone loveable and worthy of love.

I know that’s not it, that you didn’t give me permission at all. More like you opened the window to a room I couldn’t see and in that room was me and I was amazing and beautiful and smart, capable and funny and sexy and loveable. It was like seeing myself through your eyes and no longer being able to maintain the negative impressions I had of myself.

I have always, always felt like this broken, ugly thing. Even as a child, I was often overwhelmed with a sense of self-loathing. I hated the way I looked, hated my name, the sound of my own voice, everything. When the bullying started in school, when the pretty girl in first grade said rotten, mean shit about me, sure I got mad, but I also believed her. And, once that started, it never really stopped. I was a perfect target for bullies as a child and for abusive men as an adult.

You fulfill me in ways I didn’t even know I was lacking.

You said to me that your life would be so much less without me. My life was so empty before you, devoid of love and affection and acceptance. I often feel like my life would be nothing without you because it was so empty before you. I had just accepted that I was not to be loved. Being worthy had nothing to do with it, really. I just accepted that I was meant to be this empty shell of a person, that I was incapable of functioning effectively in a relationship. And suddenly there you were, and you set my world on fire. You set me on fire, lit me up, shined your light in all my dark corners, and suddenly I was alive for the first time. You’ve breathed life into me and I will never be able to properly express my gratitude.