Self hate has a nice ring to it.

Compassion for thyself. 

Ewww. My man bones don't like that. I want to pound chest. Roar. Compassion...not so much. 

Even the word irks me. 

Ahhh, but there it is, when I have a visceral reaction to that I know there is something to see. 

And as it turns out, self compassion has long been missing. 

Why? Oh a myriad of reasons but the biggest was that I was always running to hide my vulnerability. My fear. 

Now, when I check in, and sit with myself and play back the words I've used about myself, the hurtful positions I've put myself in, the undervaluing myself, I realize I am my number one abuser. 

Ain't nobody as good at it as I am. 

So what do I do? I sit with Bryce, the little version of me. The boy me. Turns out he's terrified. Terrified out of his bloody mind. 

Terrified to love. Terrified of being a fraud. Terrified of failing. Of being forgotten. Of not enough. 

And what do I do? I hate him for it. His weakness. 

But really, it's just fear of his fear. 

Truth is I love him so dearly that it's painful to admit. That I would kill for him. 

When I sit back and take breath, a moment, a pause, and say, "Hey, we're doing a hell of a job. You keep going, you keep pushing forward, you keep opening, you keep showing up, you keep..." 

That's when I realize he is not weak. My god, he is a strong soul. Unrelenting in his pursuit of wholeness. Truth. Love. 

Is it perfect? Absolutely not. Does it hurt? Yep. 

But if I don't start having my own back. Being my number one fan. No one will. They can't. It's a void I and I alone can conquer. 

Maybe it's time to check in with your little version of yourself. See what you've been saying. Are you loving them or are you hating them? 

Love them. Always. Trust me.

Love,

Bryce