The Religion Of Learning To Love Yourself


They say your body is a temple, but I’ve never been the religious type. I’ve been told that I am a goddess, but I don’t believe that I have ever worshiped myself like that. I’ve been struggling enough lately to finally push myself to realize that you cannot find sanctuary within another person. No matter how strong another’s bones are within their body, they will never be sturdy enough to build a home. Human beings are not meant to be the foundation from which you build upon.

You cannot plant your roots in the body of another; this is a dangerous way to form your existence. Just as the roots of a tree that was planted in an overcrowded forest are forced from the ground for lack of space in the soil, you too will be forced out of a space in which you were never meant to grow. I have been there; I have felt what it’s like to hinder the growth of another person. I have planted my own feet within the ground of a forbidden territory. I have set myself on fire just trying to keep someone else warm.

Yet as tragic as fire can be, spreading vastly and killing all in it’s path, I have found that there is almost always some beauty in tragedy. For entire forests are burnt solely to create new life. Such is life; and among this wreckage is where I now find myself. Among the burnt remains of my previous existence is where I now stand, creating a life I never knew was possible to live. I am scattering ashes of toxic relationships in hopes that the wind will blow them in the opposite direction than that which I am walking. So on I go, off to worship an idol that I know nothing about, off to reside in a temple built of foreign materials, off to create a new life from a destructive past.

Here I go, off to love myself.