TheBanyanTree: 3am prayer

[Monique Colver]

We are products of our past, but we can be more. I learned self-disgust from
those around me who thought little of me, and from those who loved me I
received conflicting messages. I learned self-hatred young, and I carried it
with me for many years. It's still there, but only occasionally now, just a
faint reminder now and then of who I was. I am not that person anymore. I
didn't have to be. I've always been my own worst enemy, the one who gave me
the hardest time no matter what I did.

I still do. I'm rarely good enough, but I've learned to accept it, mostly. I
am who I am, and I'm not so bad. That's quite a thing for me to say. "Not so
bad." Quite an accomplishment. It's an ongoing struggle. I work at it. It
doesn't come easy to me, but working at it makes my life so much better.
Liking myself sure makes it easier for me to be around me.

A poet without his desolation is a happy poet.

We can unlearn the bad lessons. We can overlay them with better lessons. We
may not erase them completely, but we can work around them, and we can be
better.

Be better. Do it for those who love you, but do it most of all for yourself.
Give yourself a break, and learn to be content with being human.

xoxo

Monique

On Sun, Dec 12, 2010 at 2:36 AM, <dseaman77 at gmail.com> wrote:

> My father, quick to criticize and slow to praise, is a manly type of man.
> If only I could be strong like him, and yet he embodies all that I dislike
> about manhood. Some parents teach the lesson of self-hate disguised as
> humility. It's not really their fault. Everyone does it, even though words
> are supposed to mean something. Truths are often lost in the translation of
> our ancestry. It's taken my entire life to realize self-abasement is not a
> virtue.
>
> Please don't let me alone with myself tonight. I'm unlike the person I see
> in the mirror. I'm my own worst bully. And humility is different than
> confusion. At least it is tonight, alone here in the dark with the person I
> detest the most. All that is grows from the seed of hope and dies in the
> arms of love. All that is healthy stems from self-love, and I am so limited
> tonight.
>
> My Father, bless his heart. At least he taught me about loneliness. And
> what is a poet without his desolation?
>
>
>
> Dave
>



-- 
Monique Colver