The Day I Learned to Love Myself: A Journey Through Heartbreak and Healing

This is my journey from heartbreak to love. My healing journey from heartbreak.

Love is an interesting feeling.

I have always been on the eternal search for love — ever since I was a young boy in my teens.

I have burned with fire and raw passion since my early years. I remember what it was like to catch serious feelings for someone yet their touch and grasp would never be mine.

I remember waking up each morning knowing what it is like to want to be with someone yet knowing that she would never be with me no matter the circumstances.

Life is hard

Life was hard. I learned this early on. To love, yet not be loved back.

There was a loneliness to this; a somewhat void pit in the stomach where the love of another should be, yet it was never returned, and so I burned alone for many years.

Without love in your life it can be lonely, incredibly lonely.

And yet I started my life in a whirlwind. My mother and father were still working their life out together, too busy in their trials to focus their efforts onto me; too busy in their own seeking of love to notice that I was burning for it too.

That is why I cuddle my son daily; tell him that I love him, he does not know another but he shall know love in his life whether he spends it with another woman or not.

What I give to my son is what I lacked in life; a safety net, just someone there to know that everything will be okay no matter the circumstances. If he falls, I will pick him up–at distance of course.

I lacked love

I grew up lacking love; the tender joy and nourishment that parents should give you, the feeling of someone always behind you should you fall into trouble. I never had any of that.

I was alone, and through that I desperately searched the love of another. The love I was lacking.

I think that is what you seek in life — that which you were lacking in childhood; you go off on a soul search to find that which you have never experienced before.

For me it was the love of another. Because I had never known love.

Not like some people have at the beginning.

Of course there was plenty of love in my life. I am not saying it was empty and void of love; my grandparents filled me with the kind of love I was missing, as did my Aunties and Uncles, and for a brief time in my life I had it with my parents — when my mother was dating another.

Death

Sadly he died though, and once again, it was like a tremendous void was ripped out from underneath me and left a gaping hole in my heart where wholeness needed to be.

And yet, that did not stop me, life moved on. I had to get through the mind numbingly boring day as if nothing had happened; a silent cloud over what was going on in my home life had descended over my outward appearance.

People expected me to be the happy Raymond that I always was, outwardly positive with a thirst for life; it did not matter if my safety net had been ripped away from underneath me like a magicians rug, it only mattered that I fully show up with smile on my face and warmth to everyone.

And so I did.

Masking

This is where I learned to mask.

Mask my true feelings for what they were. At School and outside I would play football with the lads and wolf whistle at the girls and beat my chest as a regular school boy would; at home I would cry myself to sleep, empty of the warmth that should surround the family home.

This was me for years, and it is what lead me to a path of drugs and drink and an underworld of people that only move in the shadows of the night; not normally seen by regular people.

To know me you would not know I had this sordid past; you would see a bright young man today with glowing intent in his eyes, free from the burdens of his yesteryear — yet his youth was a mixture of lies, deception, trial, fire, and underworld.

Oh how the alcohol was a gift from the heavens for me. It was the get out of jail free card for my anxiety whenever it boiled to the surface, it was the match to the gasoline, it gave me confidence when I had none; it stopped me from hating myself and the loneliness and void in my soul for long enough to feel human again.

But even the alcohol was not without its woes. Most people do not realise this but you can get trapped in a cyclical depression when heavily motivated by alcohol. You drink to be happy, yet alcohol is a depressant, and after the day has left your body it makes you feel sad, depressed, lonely–therefor the need for more devils juice to feel happier again.

And thus the cycle continues.

Silly Mistakes

It was a long one for me; through silly mistakes, heavy mishaps, and stupid decision making I have been through it all. I wear the battle scars today to prove that I have been through it, not physically, but mentally.

There are some bars and restaurants I will not go anywhere near today for the powerful bad memories they leave me with. The humiliating and devastating mistakes I have made.

But, we are all human, and we all make mistakes.

Picture perfect

This is what I feel the world struggles with today. We present as picture perfect entities on social media ands forget that life is sticky, and unrelenting, and people do massively and Royally screw up, and that is part of life.

I wish sometimes internet culture would catch on to that idea.

In a way I was given grace from that as a young man. Had I grown up with today’s difficulties I would be cancelled a hundred times over and thrown in prison. I think most people my age would have the same opinion on that.

We grew up knowing life was messy and a little bit of a fumble before things start falling into place. Today’s generation are placarded with perfection all around them and they get upset when their lives do not turn out to be perfect–which is entirely normal.

None of us knew our arse from our elbow as young twenty something’s.

The Emotional Stages of Grief

But life began turning around for me when I hit rock bottom. It seems strange saying this but many will never reach the bottom depths of their souls and be forged back in fire reborn through sheer intention. To hit a point where all that is left is the people that surround you and nothing else.

Let me be clear here.

Reaching rock bottom is not as bad as many think. It is, but it is an intensely purifying experience. Because it teaches you many things about your world; the people in it, the connections you hold, the friendships you have, and the economic variables that surround you.

The truth will free you

When you hit rock bottom all lies fade to dust — all that is left is truth. Those that did not care about you are now gone; you do not serve them anymore purpose, therefor they fade to black.

All the lies and the falsehoods around you fade away into nothing and all you are left with is striking truth. Those that cared, and the money that was yours; if you had any to start with.

It really really opens your eyes to the world. It is also why my friend circle is small and tight, and I do not suffer half-truths.

The Phoenix is Reborn

My rock bottom was setting my world on fire.

Metaphorically of course.

I had ran away from the part of me that I did not like for so long; moved countries, changed entire friend groups because of it — and I was thrust into a situation where I had nothing else to do but to face that part of myself head on.

It came one night where I had no money for electricity and I was plunged into darkness, my friends were all out having fun, and I was sat alone in my empty flat with only the voice in my head like a drumbeat asking for answers.

Boom, boom, boom!

Face me now

I had to face the man I was running from; the man that I pretended I desperately was not however most people that knew me understood that was part of me — the horror was a monster of my own making.

I had lost everything that night. My job, my money, even a part of my sanity; and as I was hiding under the bedcovers crying like a little boy I had no options but to face up to the man I was hiding for, for so many years. The man I pretended I wasn’t but was part of me in every way.

It was my dad.

My mum spent years telling me I was nothing like my father and that I would always be a good boy in how I treat others and those around me; yet fate had drawn me into the dark halls of my subconscious that night to show me that no matter how hard I run, no matter how loud I scream, I was going to have to accept one simple fact.

You are your dad

I am like my dad in some cases.

When I finally got over that night after a few days of grieving, crying and hiding under my bedsheets then the real healing began.

Sure, I was like my dad but it doesn’t mean that I needed to act like him. Just because he is my father it does not mean I have to act like him in every way.

My dad was not a bad man either. I mean sure he had a few choice ways in which he treated women and other people but this does not have to be me; I was raised better than that anyway.

I always was.

To a new, wonderful life

And through that realisation I blossomed. I stopped running, I stopped hiding; I began accepting, and most importantly began my life.

For sure there was a lot to make up for. I had drowned most of my life in alcohol and drugs, not very friendly people, and a whole lot of partying. But now that I was beginning to feel good in myself without any additions — I started living.

Loving yourself

And that is when I truly learned to love myself. Because I began to surround myself in good people; people that would inspire me, encourage me, and lift me up instead of tear me down.

This was good for my soul, I saw it and I recognised it, and most importantly I felt the difference that having good people in my life did for my headspace.

And through that I learned love. The love of other people, and other things.

Love taught me selfworth too.

I met my beautiful wife and had an amazing son along on my journey. My life has been full of joyous moments.

Pain forges meaning

Of course I am not without painful memories. My wife has nearly died on me twice now. One on the operating theatre when Alex was born, and once when she went through a Thyroid storm. My Son has had some awful experiences too.

But the pain. It forges meaning. I often wonder if those that learn to truly love find it through a life of grief, heartbreak and healing.