Life lessons present themselves to us daily, in all shapes and forms. Some are grasped faster than others. The best lesson I’ve learnt by far is knowing my self-worth. However, it wasn’t all smooth sailing. Unlike a peaceful stroll along the canal, I had to climb mountains to reach the peak I’m standing at now. None of this occurred overnight. It took countless wistful mornings before I could simply wake up one day and sigh a breath of relief or even begin to feel calmness without the storm. Through tiny repetitive rituals of consciously writing affirmations and making gratitude lists those heights were conquered. My tides of self-hate decreased over time. A mindful effort that soon took rebellious actions against negative self-talk. My thoughts refused to listen to the hate. Consequently disliking the word and banishing 90% of its use from my vocabulary.
Moving on to the word I like to use the most ‘love’ and pairing it up with ‘self’. Self-love is more than just two words etched together side by side. It’s an action that requires endeavour and lots of it. I’ve seen the term self-love elevated from different corners of the world, presently being the talk of the town. Wilfully catching my attention through quotes, podcasts and books. I’m continuously being reminded of how crucial my happiness is. Most advice I read today are embossed into the caption section under bold tagline images on Instagram, I take whatever guidance I can get.
I remember the days when I’d read positive words as simple as “keep smiling” or “you’ve got this” scrawled all over station platform boards. Colossal enough to be seen and short enough to be understood. I would ingenuously take it as a sign, as though I was meant to stand at that spot, at that time and read those words at that very moment. I’d take pictures and share them with my friend telling her “look at what life’s is telling me”. Someone somewhere knew there would be a person saying “I needed this”.