For years
I have been emotionally unaware of my own self-hate
I mean,
knowing my life story
judging by my addictions, fears and unhappiness
I knew it was there
Self-hate
Mentally I knew it was there
But emotionally to feel what it means - I am telling you-
What a moment of full glory for spiritual pain
The absolute experience of fragmentation
The biggest part of my existence torturing the biggest part of my nature
Constantly shaming, judging, rejecting and bulldozing
And every time I intent to even approach some inner space of self-love
The two awake in fury
Both the abuser and the victim
They both protest
They unleash their trained beasts
Shame
Fear
Sadness
They are resisting their integration
And so am I
In my learnt habits
With my established comforts
Despite all intuition, inspiration, and inner wisdom
I watch myself resist happiness
I watch, as if there is nothing I could do
(there might not be anything more I can do,
more than what I am already doing)
But as I try again and again
Little attempts to infiltrate my system with some self-love,
They feel like deep transversal incisions in the nucleus of self-hate
And every time a little bit more is released
And every time,
some hours after,
I get this subtle urge to do something nice for myself
I find this is a good sign
But it requires that with every attempt for self-love
I am willing to feel the pain,
The actual, real, raw pain of
How much
And in what ways
And for what reasons
I have always- subconsciously- hated my self
Since I was very very little
( a baby? Or even a foetus?)
I struggle to remember if I ever experienced something
emerging from the subconscious to the conscious,
which was more painful than self-hate.
Text by Birds WG ( extract from my unpublished collection of awareness poetry "The meaning of my words")
Drawing & photo by Birds WG