I should be at my Krav Maga class. But I am not. I am trying to learn what it means to love myself, and while InstaOptimists make it sound easy, it’s been an exhausting, every-waking-moment challenge for me. Going to Krav Maga is one way I love myself, but so is not going when I have words that must find their way out into the open air to be tested for truthfulness.

I have flippantly touted the months and years that I have spent living alone, partnerless, with some level of success (translated: happiness and contentment), but the reality is, even when I am alone, I have historically always had a SOMEONE that I am fixated on. Sometimes it’s the most recent lover, sometimes it’s someone I barely know, but it’s hard to pinpoint a time in my life when I didn’t wake up thinking about SOMEBODY that wasn’t me and fall asleep obsessing over him. So that’s what I am working on, being the one that I think about when I wake up in the morning. When I go to sleep at night, and every millisecond in between. And to be honest, I am failing.

I don’t have words to describe the ache I feel to sit quietly next to my person, whoever he is, wherever he is. To be wrapped up in his arms and to just be content in the knowledge of his existence and nearness. I wasn’t designed to be alone, it’s not in my nature, and if I pray for anything, it’s that I am once again given the gift of love. But alone I am for now, and so the workout is filling that ache with my own, interesting self.

The object of my affection has always been the recipient of my perpetual quest to saturate them with happiness. To KNOW them and become fluent in their love language. Lacking another human to invest this curious energy in, I look inward and wonder how to apply this level of dedication and interest in myself. If I had a partner, what would I do for them, and what would I want from them, and how can I do those things for myself?

I’ve always assumed that my top two love languages (google it if you’re unfamiliar) are Gift Giving and Words of Encouragement. The gift thing is readily apparent for anyone who knows me or has been loved by me, and also, as I learn to speak love to myself, apparent on my credit card bills. “You know who would love a new pair of the softest sweatpants in America? ME!” Also I would like to spoil my lover (me) with a nice steak dinner, delivered to my couch… So I do. The potential for disastrous consequences is obvious here, and to be honest, all the self-love gift-giving I practice isn’t easing the ache.

And Words of Encouragement? Hot dang, there’s the struggle. I’ve never spoken a kind word to myself. I look in the mirror and fight hard to shut down the hate and disgust. I choke on acceptance and grace toward myself. It’s an actual sweat-inducing struggle for me. A full-on cardio workout. But maybe it isn’t words that are really important to me, or at least in that context. I’ve never been good at taking a compliment, from anybody. Words are important to me because they convey understanding… being known. I don’t want to be told I am beautiful, I want to be heard. I want intimacy. I want someone to receive my words and KNOW ME. So the reality of this craving is probably really more about Quality Time and not so much about Words of Encouragement.

In the absence of a someone, I have to use my words to know myself. I have to listen to my own heart (ironically the title of my very first journal ever), not shout it down into silence and submission, but acknowledge the aches, the reaching, stretching strain for someone to wrap it up in wonderment and adoration. I have to spend quality time with myself. I have to sit quietly and recognize that the pain is there and I have no cure. I have to turn the music up in the car on a long, lonely drive and not shut down memories, but love them for what they WERE, and never will be again. This is the best therapy I have found. To shift gears from fixation to gratitude. I have to honor my experiences and the comfort I find in the past, without staying hung up on it. Because it’s not about the past. Or the future. It’s about now, and it’s about me. Just me. And I’m learning how to speak Liv.