Carrying Your Own Spear: Savage Self-love for the Broken.
HUNT HARD
KILL SWIFTLY
WASTE NOTHING
OFFER NO APOLOGIES*
Most people couldn’t see self-love in those words if you paid them. But for me, it’s there, because this is a bloody, fierce thing. I have to aggressively go after what I need, take it, work it for everything it’s got, and never apologize for doing what I have to do. I don’t usually succeed at this -- in fact, I downright suck at it -- but, you know, that’s why it’s written on the mirror. To remind me that it’s okay to do what is best for me. We are not talking about wanting the world on a silver platter, like my mother always said I did. We are talking survival, here.
Most days, my mental illness is me fighting ennui and frustration and being very tired, but sometimes it stops being small-scale and becomes for-real fighting for my sanity, for my life. The cuddly butt-fondling and ice cream part is the comparatively easy part to reach. The part with the spears, that’s harder, because when you most need it, that’s when it is hardest to maintain. It takes practice, but it’s worth it.
There’s a reason assholes don’t want you to love yourself, okay? Self-love is fucken scary. It gets shit done.
I know my love for myself can be broken by my mental illness. But I also know that I will forgive myself for that, I will bandage my own wounds, and I will get back up to fight again. And there’s a kind of joy in that. There’s pride. The way the hero in an action movie will look up after he’s been punched in the face by Nazis and give a bloody smile, because every hit turns a little of his fear into rage, and he knows that if they give him even one chance, he is going to kick the ever-loving shit out of some Gestapo thugs.
I’m not invulnerable just because I’ve decided I am worth caring about. I have to deal with a mental illness that can lie dormant for years, and then rise up and try to murder me almost overnight. It’s no longer terrifying, but at the core of my reality is a simple truth I can’t ignore: maybe someday this thing will get me. Being your own hero doesn’t mean you will have a happy ending, unfortunately. It doesn’t mean you will never fail yourself, or that you are the only hero you will ever need, or that you will win every battle you fight.
But it does mean you have a much better chance, that the journey will be more awesome, and that you will have damn good, damn faithful company on the way.
Maybe you aren’t ready for any of this second-year Being Broken 201 stuff yet. Maybe you aren’t able to love yourself yet. Maybe “fighting”, for you, is simply getting out of bed. Maybe it’s deciding not to hurt yourself for another twenty minutes. Maybe it’s just being aware that you shouldn’t think hateful things about your body, even if you can’t stop yourself from thinking them yet. Maybe it’s making one phone call. Maybe it’s facing up to one more doctor visit.
But you came this far. Congratulations.
You are worth fighting for. Fight.
*Falconer Teddy Moritz
Mad levels of thanks to Jenny Yu for this gorgeous art. Give her a follow if you're on Tumblr.
X-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment count:
KILL SWIFTLY
WASTE NOTHING
OFFER NO APOLOGIES*
Most people couldn’t see self-love in those words if you paid them. But for me, it’s there, because this is a bloody, fierce thing. I have to aggressively go after what I need, take it, work it for everything it’s got, and never apologize for doing what I have to do. I don’t usually succeed at this -- in fact, I downright suck at it -- but, you know, that’s why it’s written on the mirror. To remind me that it’s okay to do what is best for me. We are not talking about wanting the world on a silver platter, like my mother always said I did. We are talking survival, here.
Most days, my mental illness is me fighting ennui and frustration and being very tired, but sometimes it stops being small-scale and becomes for-real fighting for my sanity, for my life. The cuddly butt-fondling and ice cream part is the comparatively easy part to reach. The part with the spears, that’s harder, because when you most need it, that’s when it is hardest to maintain. It takes practice, but it’s worth it.
There’s a reason assholes don’t want you to love yourself, okay? Self-love is fucken scary. It gets shit done.
I know my love for myself can be broken by my mental illness. But I also know that I will forgive myself for that, I will bandage my own wounds, and I will get back up to fight again. And there’s a kind of joy in that. There’s pride. The way the hero in an action movie will look up after he’s been punched in the face by Nazis and give a bloody smile, because every hit turns a little of his fear into rage, and he knows that if they give him even one chance, he is going to kick the ever-loving shit out of some Gestapo thugs.
I’m not invulnerable just because I’ve decided I am worth caring about. I have to deal with a mental illness that can lie dormant for years, and then rise up and try to murder me almost overnight. It’s no longer terrifying, but at the core of my reality is a simple truth I can’t ignore: maybe someday this thing will get me. Being your own hero doesn’t mean you will have a happy ending, unfortunately. It doesn’t mean you will never fail yourself, or that you are the only hero you will ever need, or that you will win every battle you fight.
But it does mean you have a much better chance, that the journey will be more awesome, and that you will have damn good, damn faithful company on the way.
Maybe you aren’t ready for any of this second-year Being Broken 201 stuff yet. Maybe you aren’t able to love yourself yet. Maybe “fighting”, for you, is simply getting out of bed. Maybe it’s deciding not to hurt yourself for another twenty minutes. Maybe it’s just being aware that you shouldn’t think hateful things about your body, even if you can’t stop yourself from thinking them yet. Maybe it’s making one phone call. Maybe it’s facing up to one more doctor visit.
But you came this far. Congratulations.
You are worth fighting for. Fight.
*Falconer Teddy Moritz
Mad levels of thanks to Jenny Yu for this gorgeous art. Give her a follow if you're on Tumblr.
X-posted from Dreamwidth. Comment count: