I am married to the pit of self.
I derive a perverse sense of self — of identity and purpose — from my abusive relationship to self-pity. In that distored union, I am both perpetrator, victim and rescuer.
We scream at each other: “You are the MOST worst.”
To which pity responds: “Because of your self-centered pity and loathing.”
And again: “See you can’t even properly format dialogue in a blog post!”
I’ve had enough of those cyclical, endless internal arguments.
I’ve filed for divorce.
I’ve hired the best law firm of community, a life coach, a therapist & spiritual practice. I allow them to direct the proceedings.
Self-pity and I are separated, and I’m dating new perspectives. Even if we weren’t separated, it is wholly acceptable to cheat on self-pity with usefulness. I cannot punch myself in the face when I’m holding someone’s hand.
And I’m learning to love self-pity for all it gave me. We had an amazing relationship, which helped me survive the greatest trials of my life. All of it’s abuse was mean’t to help fix me, to help me grow and be happy. I can accept the spirit of it’s actions without approving of it’s methods. Self-pity has only ever wanted me to be lovable.
This divorce is about grieving the loss of a long, meaningful relationship so that I can open to courting new, open, loving ways of being myself. Some days I still wake up next to self-pity, but now I have a choice to let it go, and sleep around with hope.