Love

As an experiment, I have decided to fall in love with myself. Looking through things I wrote decades ago, I cringe too often. I see my imperfections and how they concretely limited my opportunities. I shout at my former self as though, this time, he might make the better choice. The intransigent twenty-one-year-old ignores me.

I cannot see myself through unbiased eyes, but this experiment does not require it. The eyes of lovers are never unoccluded, and we little fault them. It is the charm in loving another person that you see the version of them that the relationship built rather than the insecure flesh around the schema.

If I met myself in another body, I would love him. A pop culture occultist with nine books out who laughs murderers into writing better essays? Come sit next to me at dinner. I have so many questions. Oh, you are a former gifted kid with a mental illness and an oddball family? Do tell. You biweekly play board games with a queer organization? You must have some stories!

It's not arrogance, falling in love with oneself. I was assumed to be arrogant when I wanted to mask my insecurity. I am not now about what matters most, and I am too interested in other people to get in my way of loving them.

Amber loves me--madly, intensely, adorably--and they are a superb judge of character. If I don't love myself, aren't I doubting their wisdom? I love Amber and wouldn't let them ignore their compassion and resolve as I do myself.

It is easy to fall in love with a stranger, but one also easily falls out. I know myself almost better than anyone else (I like to leave rhetorical wiggle room), and falling out of love with myself sounds like an impossible divorce.

That shouldn't be an issue, as I do not see why I should ever fall out of love with myself.

Even now, the cynic wants to offer self-deprecating jokes to couch and lessen. It is familiar to undercut sincerity to my benefit. How can I not hear when I insult myself? How can the parts of me damaged by life detect the criticism in the joke? I have had loved ones treat me as a burden, mock me before our friends, and play it up as though I am exaggerating when I am wounded. Letting them do this acted against my ability to love myself because it was telling that part of me that I deserved to be ill-treated. If I loved someone, I would not let them put up with that abuse. I would fight for them, shield them, and give my resources to help them save themselves.

I cannot cure what I have done to myself from neglect and fear. The only healing I can offer my past self is to treat him better going forward. When I struggle, I will think about what I would do for Amber in that position and seek to treat myself with such kindness.

last watched: Loudermilk
reading: The Illuminatus! Trilogy