As I struggled to figure out the perfect Valentine’s Day topic to write about, my mind immediately jumped to the usual bundle of roses, the red and pink hearts, the teddy bears and the chocolate boxes. I was set on painting this picture of perfection and talking about how love-filled my life is and how much I have to be thankful for. I wanted to draw from my relationships with others and myself, but then I realized that I had fallen out of love. Deep down I wasn’t thinking about the roses or the candy, but rather every waking moment was spent thinking about how little love I actually have.
This past year has sucked to say the least. Like every other college student around me, this year is nothing like what I envisioned or anticipated. I was expecting the football games, the parties, the late nights spent with all of my friends, but what I got in return was quarantine, masks and pods. Now don’t get me wrong, I understand the importance of doing your part in helping to slow the spread and I take every precaution known to man, but dear God it really does suck. I don’t think there’s ever been a point in my life where the only person I could be around was myself. Being stuck in my own head all day at times has been excruciatingly painful and mentally draining. I miss seeing the smiles of my friends and hearing their laughs. I miss the company of other people. I miss everything that could have been. Everything that I was expecting. Everything that I’ve been dreaming of since I was a little.
The thing is, part of me feels guilty because, given the circumstances, my life is honestly going pretty well. I have the sweetest boyfriend in existence, an amazing friend group and an exciting future ahead post-graduation, but I still feel a nagging hole in my heart. I still feel this sinking feeling that I can’t quite stop. I still feel a panging sadness and longing, and I hate myself for that feeling; I feel guilt-ridden. Outwardly, there isn’t anything wrong, I should be happy. I should have a smile on my face and be thankful for each day as it is given, but no matter how hard I try that feeling comes creeping back in. My mind is split. I’m being torn two completely different directions, yet my feet are frozen and I’m not moving at all.
When I look in the mirror I don’t recognize who I see. I don’t see the strong, confident, capable woman I so thought I was. I don’t see the woman with a zest for life, living each day like it was her last. Instead, I see a woman who struggles and has to trudge through each day. I see a woman who has to force herself out of bed every other day. I see dark circles from restless nights spent thinking. I see a practiced smile, so convincing it almost looks real. When I look in the mirror I don’t see love, and I don’t love what I see.
I have fallen out of love with myself. It’s weird to finally say that out loud, and it’s hard to admit. I don’t know where this leaves me, I’m not quite sure what to do next. Where do I go from here? What does moving forward look like? How do I become comfortable in the silences I hold with myself? There is no manual on how to love yourself no matter how much I wish there was. There are fleeting moments where I see glimpses of who I used to be and everything I used to love. Those are the moments I wish I could hold onto forever, but it feels like an eternity ago. A past self I could pass on the street and not recognize in the slightest. I don’t know who I am or where I’m going anymore.
Everyday I wake up and I can feel myself going through the motions, but not actually paying any attention. I feel like I’m on autopilot watching the world spin around me as I remain stationary. Every move feels alien. It’s hard to be stuck in this routine, but at the same time I have found beauty in its ways. Like the tide that has gone out, eventually it will come back in. Life will continue, waves will crash again, I will get through this.
I long for the little girl that I used to be. The one who felt invincible and on top of the world. The one with no fears. To the little girl who didn’t struggle with self-love, thank you for teaching me. Thank you for giving me something to reflect back on. Thank you for putting your relationship with yourself first. Thank you for giving me something to remember. Even though the times I am in now are different and we are ages apart, thank you for reminding me that those times did exist. It comforts to know that I was once her. I still see flashes of her in my mind when I close my eyes. I can feel her lust for life and her desire to do everything. I remember her laugh and can picture her smile.
Maybe one day it won’t feel so foreign. Maybe one day I will be able to look back without yearning. Maybe one day I will look in the mirror again and love what I see. I don’t always have to be strong. I don’t always have to be certain. I don’t always have to know. It’s okay to fall apart because I know that one day I will have the strength to put myself back together. Until that day, I will be patient with myself. I will listen to myself. I will embrace the uncertainty with grace. I will ride out the highs and push through the lows.
On this Valentine’s Day I will not love myself. Today, I will struggle. Today, I allow myself the time to sit with everything that I feel. I give myself permission to be broken. I acknowledge the hole I feel in my chest and the pain associated with it. I grant myself this momentary sadness knowing that one day I will feel whole again. I don’t know when that day will be or how long it will be until then, but I trust that one day I will pick myself up and put myself back together again. Until then, I will remember the little girl I used to be. I will reminisce on her smile and hear her laugh. I will hold her joy close. I will do all of these things until I look and see her in me again.