Hurt and Pain: The Most Communicable Diseases

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“Hurt” and “pain” are communicable diseases that can go undetected for years before
a person seeks help.

Some of us are carriers and don’t even know it. We hop into the dating pool, or, we get into a relationship thinking that we are ready, when we are not. Then, we choose the same “type” of person and get hurt every-single-time. Or, we exude a certain type of energy that attracts the wrong (or the same type) of person. As result, yielding the same outcome over-and-over again.

Denial is running rampant

There are 7 reasons why we’re single, and no matter how many times we blame the opposite sex, the common denominator is you.

To make matters worse, what do we do next? We project, blame, and/or live in denial.

“When you refuse to look in the mirror and face the truth, I call that denial.  You can deny the truth about why you’re single, consciously, or subconsciously.  Meaning, you lie to yourself, and others, but you know what you’re saying isn’t true (conscious).  Or, you lie to yourself and others, but you truly believe what you’re saying is true (subconsciously).”

So what’s next?

Meanwhile, you keep on dating and infecting other people with that hurt and pain.

Sometimes you infect people who are are building up their strength to get back out
there. Sometimes it’s people who have open wounds (which are the easiest to infect). Other times it’s the same sex. Women infecting women, or men infecting other men, with bitter and resentful feelings about the opposite sex.

Why spread the hurt and pain to others?

You’re hurting, and it feels good to know people around you feel the same as you do (misery loves company). You haven’t truly forgiven from the heart, you’ve only forgiven in your mind (you may not have done that either). Consequently, you’re still holding onto the pain and hurt others have inflicted on you.

As I stated in my post about forgiveness

Although it should be mandatory, forgiveness is a choice.

It can be very difficult to forgive someone who has hurt you. You may even want those who aggrieved you, to feel the pain you feel. Forgiveness isn’t about being, [fair.] It’ about being, [free], and it definitely isn’t about spite. When we don’t forgive, we indirectly punish those who don’t deserve it. In the meantime, we are still connected to the person who initially caused us pain.  Consequently, they still have power over us because, they anchor to the lowest depths of our emotions.

Media doesn’t exactly help your cause

I see it every day in the way we post, talk, and interact. Also in the songs we listen to, and the TV shows we watch. When you’re hurting, and in pain, you listen to songs that apply to your current situation. You also tend to click on articles, and social media posts that more associated with what you’re going through. Especially the posts that invite negativity about the opposite sex.

Negative posts, television shows, and/or music all contribute to your mental state. You may not know it, but you are being suggested negative energy subliminally. The more you watch or listen, the more it impact you.  Ever watch a movie for 2 hours and come out thinking negative? I have.

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Photo Credit: Lesly Juarez

My advice? It’s simple, stay away from negative media. as a whole.  In addition, surround yourself with positive people, go to positive places, and do positive things.  Lastly, always be mindful of what you’re saying. Spoken words and affirmations are very powerful.

It’s finally time to heal

You will never find what you’re looking for until you heal. You will always look at
men and women in a “slanted” way until you seek help. You will always seek that
love from another, but they can’t heal you, they can only help you. The majority of the work must be completed by you.

I’ve been there…

I’ve been that hurt man infecting others. I had to first take a long break, so I could mentally breathe. Understanding where I was in life, who I was as a man, and what I deserve were a critical aspect of my growth. I also had to realize how I was impacting myself in a negative way, and what I truly needed in order to sustain my evolution going forward.

Most importantly, I had to learn to love myself first and foremost.

I encourage you to do the same.

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A Letter To My Ex Girlfriend

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He’s bitter

No… I’m a man who’s just irate…  and a letter won’t cure the nausea I’m feeling—because of all the bullshit I-ate.

You fed me lie after lie, line after line, and I was mouth wide open thinking you were mine.

That’s fine… this letter is for my time.

You need some damn help. I tried, I fought, I cried, I wasted good years… it’s time to put you back on the shelf.
Even though I am a fighter, I get sick of bobbin’ and weavin’… besides, we got this baby on the way, and I ain’t leavin’ (even though you said I would)

Or maybe I should leave? I’ll be judged though… as a man, they always do. To be honest? I’m tired of hearing about what women go through. Men go through things too! We deal with bull from women all the time. I guess they think we’re immune because we don’t cry… [in the open], write breakup songs, and whine.

We carry this shit.

Thousands of men walking around out there feeling like crap. Feeling like no one understands them. So we carry it all like a stomach ulcer (don’t date us though… cause it’s a trap).

But we can handle it all because we are a man right?

No.

Like a rusty sword stuck in its sheath, No matter how hard we try to pull out, we’re a mess underneath.

Dripping sweat, selfish sex, and lack of reciprocation. So what’s next? You roll over and act like me pleasing you is all I get. SHET!

Lost because this man, staring in the mirror is-not-me. Who is he? He’s changed, with the heart of a man defeated by a woman who stole his destiny… selfishly.

“You’re the selfish one, not me.”

You say that, and you’re definitive. Your innate narcissism is apparent each time you speak. Each utterance of that trash makes me feel pain in my [peen]. I can’t even get it up when I think of the fact that I have to deal with you til’ he’s 18.

I hate you! No, I love you, No… I hate you.  No… I can’t stand the woman you became. The woman who blames everyone for everything but refuses to acknowledge the pain [you] brought to the game.

You don’t trust me? Chick you’re just insecure. And I damn sure don’t trust you! All we have is time. But the baby is coming, and your lack of communication makes me believe the baby isn’t mine.

Call after call, you don’t answer. You don’t return the messages you receive. How can you blame me for feeling the way I do? About a broken relationship that never became whole, and was fake as hair weave.

You better believe… I wanted to break up. The day you called and told me you were pregnant, I planned to leave you in the dust… no fuss, no more lust.  Just realness from a man that had enough.

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Photo Credit: Sam Burris

No support, no encouragement, just selfish ambitions of a ring.  So blind to the fact that I needed YOU more than anything.

I dropped friends, never hung out, stayed at home, shared in the [responsibility] despite what I was going through… what the hell did you want from me?

You never listened, always did things your own way. Then, when everything blew up in your face, you want to cry and say… some slick shit that only pushed me away.

Fakin’ like you’re a good woman. Based on what—cause you cooked? That’s not a good look—[understand] when you’re in relationship with a man like me, it’s your ability to feed my soul that keeps me hooked.

When I found out about the inappropriate text conversations, planned late night visits, and lunch dates with the friend from your past… I almost lost it. Listen, it was only 3 months after our son was born, I came at you calm, asked you to confess, but your complete narcissism wouldn’t let that last.
Always redirecting and transferring energy back on me, I wanna cop a plea, Just let me be…Lord, let me flee! Please release this self-imposed pain from me.

I tried to lead you, but you’re un-lead-able. You have to be in control… un-believable.

I’ve been gone…

No, I don’t feel wrong…

This is my swan song…

Would’ve done this from the start…

I forgive you regardless…

And it’s coming from the heart.

***********************************************

Jay Thomas is an incredible blogger that commented on one of my posts last year and we’ve been following each other every since. He’s an incredible writer and lover of love. Isn’t that amazing? I love love too so it was awesome to realize that we have a lot in common. He will be a featured contributor to my blog in 2018 and I wanted to give you an idea of this man’s perspective on love. He’s real. He’s true. He’s open. To read more about Jay and to follow his blog please click here: Relationships Etcetera

The Harsh Truth About Spanking – Part 2

In yesterday’s post I talked about how spanking is one form of discipline, but that is one form that we need to get away from. Discipline takes many different forms and you can discipline without spanking. It is possible. There are no statistics that support that spanking makes children better than those who were not spanked. In reality, when spanking leaves a mark it now goes into abuse. Do you want to take that chance?

This is what happened to Tyrese. It wasn’t about men and women. It wasn’t about a bitter ex trying to keep him from his child. It was about a parenting choice to spank your child. A choice about whether or not corporal punishment was better than using the situation as a teachable moment.

I met a young woman in college who grew up in a military family. Her dad was a major in the Army. She said that she had a sister and her dad never hit them. She said that when they got in trouble, he made them do drills. She said that she would have to awaken at 5 a.m. and go on 2 mile runs with her dad and do 50 push-ups and 50 sit-ups. She was exhausted. She said that she never wanted to get in trouble because she didn’t want to  do exercise.

That was the first time that I had met someone that was black that hadn’t been subjected to a belt, a switch, a shoe, etc. This was a different way of parenting. Was it better or worse than a spanking? I wasn’t sure, but it was something that was totally different than what I had experienced.

Now, the basis of positive parenting involves the shift in being both positive and authentic with our children. That’s what I discovered a couple of years ago. Munch’s attitude was always so negative. So, I tried to redirect. I decided to find ways to communicate with my child that didn’t involve lashing out and spanking.

Am I perfect? No, I’m not. I haven’t mastered it all. I have lashed out to Munch out of frustration. Remember last year when I talked about it in my post Mommy Meltdown? I talked about how I had cursed at my son. I felt horrible. I cried. What was wrong with me? I felt like I was taking a huge step back.

Many people assured me that they’ve had breakdowns too. Forgive yourself they instructed. I did. But, I also owed Munch an apology. I was leading him by example and I wanted him to know that I was wrong. That I should not have lashed out at him or cursed at him.

This was something I never experienced growing up. But, parents should apologize when they make mistakes. How could I expect him to apologize for his actions if I couldn’t do it? We hugged and talked and after a while the pain of feeling like I failed him dissolved.

Positive parenting involves a commitment to approaching your children with love, kindness and being authentic. You approach it as a way to teach your children without the fear of punitive damages. I admit it was hard for me to get my head around it at first. Why? Because what about “spare the rod and spoil the child”. Was I going to do more harm by respecting, leading and redirecting negative behaviors than not hitting him?

No.

When I learned that more than anything in this world that I wanted my son to grow up knowing that his mother’s hands were those of love and not violence then it was easy to make the shift. I wanted my son to want to learn and understand without me lashing out or spanking him. I changed my tactics.

I’ve never looked back. I don’t see spanking as a way to teach a lesson. I went to college, I have a degree and I liked to think that I have some common sense too. I see the benefits of creating an environment where Munch is respected and can learn in love. Where he sees that we all have bad days, but ultimately we are accountable for our actions.

To that point, I disagree with spanking in general. I disagree with Tyrese spanking his daughter. It isn’t necessary. He now has his 50/50 custody back with a court appointed clinical psychologist as a monitor until June 2018 and has to go to parenting classes and neither him or his ex can use corporal punishment on their daughter. But, why did it take a judge telling him this? Let’s find a better way of teaching our children’s lessons without resorting to physical punishment.

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

What Scares You Most?

I wrote the piece Babbling Brook last week about my struggles with trying to get more information from Mr. C. He shares with me, but many times I talk and he listens. So, I was trying to find ways to get him to share more. As our time is being reduced due to his new work restrictions we definitely need to keep ahead in the communication game to make sure that our relationship is a priority.

A couple of days ago, one of my fellow bloggers A. Michelle! suggested that I ask Mr. C – What scares you most? How does he handle himself when he is scared?

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I loved it. What a great suggestion! I wanted to find a way to ask more interesting questions and get him to share deeper things with me. I wanted us to deepen our emotional intimacy. I bought us a book to go through and I wanted to start by asking A. Michelle’s question. So, I asked him “What scares you the most as a man?” “How do you handle yourself when you are scared?”

He told me that “Being in a relationship scares him the most. The possibility of being hurt. Pain hurts.” I just listened. I repeated the second question “How do you handle yourself when you are scared?” He said that he “Doesn’t let it consume his thoughts.” I asked him how does he stop it from consuming his thoughts? He said that if it did consume his thoughts then he would just break up with me. Say what now?

I asked him whether or not he would have proof or would he allow his insecurities to break us up. He responded that it is a lot of stuff in between that happens before a break-up. Interesting.

I didn’t judge him for his answer, but let him speak. I liked the fact that he shared something so emotional and deep with me. However, I have expressed my concern about the residual (remaining) damages from his prior relationships. Why? Because we all have stuff that is left when we experience painful relationships. We can’t let that affect us. I know. It’s easier said than done, but I’ve been there.

I allowed my relationship or lack thereof with my dad to jeopardize healthy relationships because I never trusted men. Men represented pain, lies and BS. I accepted the words of women before I ever accepted them from men. That wasn’t healthy. I was projecting my pain on prospective partners and they never even knew it.

I don’t want Mr. C to do that. Not to me. So, I’m trying to develop ways for us to discuss our feelings and to strengthen our emotional intimacy and really get to the core of our fears about love and relationships. I’ve never done it before, but I want to work on it now. I know that we both believe in couples counseling so I definitely want us to commit to going in the next few months.

It’s more of pre-engagement counseling. Before the engagement, let’s work on our relationship. Let’s make sure that we are on the same page and the same path. It can only make us stronger.

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Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links:  Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Things I Let Go

In 2017,  I realized that I wasn’t going to carry other people’s baggage anymore. I’m living proof that you have to go through things in order to get to your happiness. I’m in a happy place. But, I don’t take it for granted.

What I used to do was carry the baggage of others. I would allow them to dump their problems/issues on me and then try to make them feel better. Umm, not going to happen in 2017.

What I realized is that I can’t carry someone else’s baggage. As my girlfriend said “You don’t work for the airlines boo. Tell them to carry their own bags.” No truer words.

I’ve spent much of my life trying to people please. I tend to excuse the negative behaviors of those I love because they may be going through something. Not anymore.

I don’t have the time nor the energy to be anyone’s clean-up woman. I have a wonderful life with a beautiful son and a great man. I have many activities and projects that I’m working on. I don’t have time for the unresolved drama of others.

I know it may seem harsh. But, I can’t. I won’t. And neither should you.

I understand that the world has many people with issues, but I’m in therapy and working on mine. I can’t be around people who are not doing the same. I’m trying  to be better for myself, for my son and for my man. I can’t deal with those that are practicing avoidance.

Life is too short. Let go and get help.

 

Life of Regrets

It is at the end of a man or woman’s life that they really begin to ponder things. Did I live a good life? Did I enjoy it? Was I good person? Did I leave the world a better place than when I found it?

Or at least I hope that is what we’ll do.

I have been thinking a lot about the life yet lived and the mistakes that we make when faced with the possibility of death. No, I’m not dying. I’ve been sick, but I’m recuperating. That’s why my posts have seemed erratic lately. Please bear with me.

But, I told ya’ll last week that my daddy had a pace maker put in and I was worried about him. His family was calling and asking me about a living will and what do I want to do with the surgery and being his decision maker. I started freaking out. What do you mean? Is he conscious? Can’t he make the decisions on his own? I don’t know about the will. He mentioned it a few times, but I’ve seen or signed nothing. Ugh!

I was overwhelmed and frustrated to say the least. I was told they would call me back and they didn’t. I just called the hospital and spoke to his nurse in ICU. He was conscious. He was able to make the decisions on his healthcare. He wanted the pacemaker.

I got answers. I was happy that the hospital was being very concerned about my dad’s health. They took down my phone number and called me. There was a wonderful nurse who told me she was trying to let the social worker know what my daddy needed when he went home. He needed a nurse. He needed help. He didn’t have a phone.

She asked me about my dad’s military service. My dad said he was a vet. He is. He is a vet. He was dishonorably discharged. The nurse said “He told me he wasn’t dishonorably discharged and he has papers to prove it.” I sighed. It was 1:30 in the morning. I responded in exasperation “My daddy is an alcoholic. He’s had a drinking problem all his life or at least for the last 35 years. Too much drinking and smoking. His brain cells are gone. He can’t produce any paperwork and I’m too tired to argue.”

She was sympathetic as I explained that I am the only one of a possible 9 children still speaking to him. One out of 9. That’s his life. So, I have no reason to lie. He’s broke and sick. He’s one of the forgotten. I just don’t know how to feel.

She understood. She listened as I explained that God had told me to forgive my daddy. That God told me that it in order for me to be blessed I had to let go of all the pain my daddy caused by not being in my life. She said “Me too. I know exactly what you mean.” She said she would help him. She would exhaust her resources.

Apply for Medicare. Do everything she can. Thank God for her.

She didn’t have to go above and beyond. It was appreciated. I wasn’t there. I knew at that moment that I needed to go home to see about him.

I talked to him the next day. He was moved to ICU to his own room. I called and heard his voice. He’s alive. He’s able to make his decisions. I told him the calls I received from his relatives. He said that he knew.

I was exhausted. Emotionally and mentally. It’s hard loving a man that you don’t really know. I’ve spent 11 years of my life with this man and 31 without him. It’s hard trusting him to not come in my life and hurt me again. I’m not his only child. I’m one of many.

My dad said that he wants me to contact his other children. To reach out to them and ask them to talk to him. I won’t. I can’t.

I feel that God gave me the message in order to move me from the pain to the promise. He may not have given my siblings that message. It’s not for me to clean up my daddy’s mess. I’ve said to him that he needs to find a way to clean up his own mess. That you can’t ask me to do what you should have done a long time ago. Be a man to your children.

I know that he’s living a life of regrets right now, but I can’t help him. We are all responsible for the choices we make. Good, bad or indifferent, you have to know that there will come a time when payment is due for your negligence. I wish that his regrets were more of the life not traveled, but I know they are more about the man he wasn’t and the forgotten children.

Getting It Off My Chest

Have you ever been in a situation where you were mad as hell about something with someone you loved and you didn’t know how to talk about it? That happened with me and Mr. C this week. It’s true. We had our first real issue and I was mad as hell and ready to walk the hell away from the man who gave me butterflies and makes me feel safe.

It started on Monday when we had lunch. I was talking to him about something and his response made me feel insignificant. Like I didn’t matter. I felt like the months that we’ve spent building and creating this safe and secure relationship was all in vain. For the first time, I felt like I was the butt of the joke where I had this great relationship and then it just was all fake.

I struggled with my feelings all day and night long. I was emotional and wanted to scream. I sought advice from my friends because I needed guidance. I needed an outside opinion on what the hell happened. How do I turn back the clock and get the man that I fell in love with back?

Differing opinions on how I should handle the situation. When men advised me to leave him alone, I cried. Why are you crying they would ask? I would tell them that God told me. That God told me that Mr. C was the man that I was going to marry. I wondered if God had made a mistake.

I know it was crazy. God doesn’t make mistakes, but I was really going through it. I was wallowing in despair and looking for a life jacket. I needed rescuing bad. But, no one was helping me. No one could help me feel better.

I went to sleep that night tossing and turning and my spirit was in a place of unrest. I had a stomach ache the next morning and I was exhausted. I talked to a friend that morning and he gave me these great words of encouragement about talking to Mr. C…”It doesn’t matter if they don’t have a problem with it. You do and you should address it.”

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Boom.

There it was.

I had a problem with how our conversation went and how I felt that we were on two different pages, hell in two different books. I had to talk to him. I couldn’t keep talking to everyone around me but him. I needed to muster up the strength and tell him how I felt even if it meant that I had to walk away in the end.

So, I called him 5 minutes before I pulled up to my office. After a minute of pleasantries I just told him that my spirit was in unrest after our conversation yesterday. I told him how I felt like he didn’t care about me. That I didn’t matter. I explained that I let him into my life no matter how messy it is or was, but how could I support him when he won’t let me in?

I went on and on for about 5 minutes straight and told him that if I told him what he had said to me that he would be pissed too. He agreed. He then said something that I wasn’t prepared to hear.

“I hear you. I don’t have a response. I need time to process.”

What the hell?

In my head I was cursing him in all kind of foreign languages that I didn’t speak. But, I’m in therapy now so I know how to pause and reflect before speaking.

Okay.

That was all I could say.

He wished me well and we got off the phone.

I didn’t know where we were ending up. Was I single again? Was this relationship a big mistake?

First Impressions: Munch and Therapy

So, last night we met with the therapist to talk about the crying that Munch has been doing. Let me clarify…it’s excessive. He cries anytime something upsets him. Daily. Multiple times a day sometimes. I’m frustrated. I’m exhausted. I’m worried.

I researched this therapist through my mental health benefit. Unlimited visits and a $10.00 co-pay. I have great health insurance. This is what I do for a living. Analyze health plans. I wanted a male. I wanted a black man if I could find one. Someone who looked like my Munch but could help him find the tools he needed to express his emotions differently.

Traffic was horrible. I left work almost two hours early to make sure to allow enough time for the appointment. It happened to be the nicest day we’ve had all year so there were multiple accidents. I was stressed. I arrived to pick up Munch after sitting in traffic for over an hour. He got in the car and kissed me.

“How was your day Munch?” I asked. He said, “It was good. I had a good day at school and I got a pizza certificate because I read a lot of books. Can we get pizza for dinner? I want pepperoni on my pizza” he stated. “Not today baby. We have the therapy appointment remember? I will get you dinner afterwards before we head home.”

“Okay” he mumbled. Traffic was excruciating. I was ready to give up. However, I knew that Munch needed to be seen and I was going to suck it up and fight the traffic.

We arrived at the appointment with 10 minutes to spare. Beautiful location. Small, but beautiful waiting room. Flat screen and hi-tech video camera recording the waiting room. Two offices. Both doors closed. We sat and waited.

The nice man comes out with a big smile and introduces himself. Shakes my hand. Strong but firm. Not overbearing. He introduces himself to Munch. Munch interrupts and says in a serious yet sad tone “My name is Munch. Mommy says that you’re going to help me. That we’re here to talk and find out why my tears are too big for my eyes and I can’t stop crying.”

He laughed and smiled “Yes, I’m here to help” he told Munch. He looked at me and said, “He’s too cute. I’m about to cry and we haven’t even talked yet. Please come in”.

Big office window. Minimal furniture. Brown love seat with a desk sitting across. A computer in front of him with a side table and two chairs to the right side of the room. The sun shined brightly through the windows and Munch and I sat on the love seat.

Knowing Your Worth

The sounds of screams, fists flying, furniture breaking and blood on clothing; are all vivid images from my childhood that still haunt me to this day. My mother left. Many women don’t. Domestic violence is not always physical. It can take many forms including sexual, emotional, verbal and psychological. It’s all about power and control. It has lasting effects.

I read this article last month on My Brown Baby entitled “#WhyIStayed: Teaching our Daughters & Sons How to Love Sans Violence” and was moved to write about this topic in October. Why? Because October is also Domestic Violence Awareness month and we need to stop blaming the victims for domestic violence and encourage them to get help and get out of destructive situations.

So, how did domestic violence affect me after witnessing it? I suffered all forms of domestic violence at one point in my life with the exception of physical, but it was just as painful.  Domestic violence affected my self-esteem and made me vulnerable and susceptible to unhealthy situations and relationships. You know the kinds of relationships where you think your first name is B*tch? How about the relationships where you’re being yelled at constantly with no regard to your feelings? How about the relationships where you feel that you’re just not good enough because he likes skinny women and I’m too thick for him? How about the relationship where he forced himself on you?

Domestic violence is serious. I suffered the affects for many years. Silently. As confident as I was on the outside, I was a wreck on the inside. I thought no one cared or that it was “my cross to bear”. Suffering alone and in silence strips you of your voice. You begin to doubt yourself and realize that maybe just maybe you deserved all those bad words or things that have happened to you. But, you don’t.

Domestic violence is simply about power and control. Hurt people hurt people. You can’t change someone. You have to love you first. Loving you is the fundamental point of everything we do in life. If you can’t love you, how can you expect someone else to love you? Truth? You can’t.

You can’t change someone.  You can’t heal a broken person when you in fact are broken. I know. I tried. I failed. All I earned was a broken, battered, abused heart and spirit. So, what do you do? You focus on you. Till this day, the best line I ever heard was from the comedian; Katt Williams when he says “B*tch, it’s called self-esteem! It’s the esteem of your mother*cking self. How the f*ck can I f*ck up how you feel about you…?” Vulgar and crude…Yes. But, it’s accurate and on point nonetheless.

That sketch reminded me that I’m the only one who can control how I feel about myself. I stopped waiting on others to validate me or my existence. I accepted who I am and I love me first. Think of it this way…when you fly they always instruct you in an emergency situation if the oxygen masks should deploy that you secure your mask first before helping someone else. Why? Because you can’t help someone else if you die. Help yourself first.