If a friend treated me with the same hate and disrespect that consumes my relationship with myself, we wouldn't even be speaking.

How sad is that? I can be my own worst enemy. 

But I'm shifting my perspective. I want to be cheering myself on, with the huge foam finger in the stands. I want to be THAT person, the overly passionate parent shouting through their child's soccer game, in my own life, every damn day. 

A recent book I've dug into, "You are a Badass" by Jen Sincero, introduced a concept that resonated with me: we must love ourselves with the same effort, kindness, and respect we have loved others. 

When I think of a good, beautiful love, I still think of G -- not with sadness, but simply with fondness and gratefulness. When he was going through a hard time, I spent months creating a book featuring all of his family members, coaches, friends, teammates, and teachers with their response to the question "What does G mean to you?". My poor, teenage self spent all my money to give him his first concert experience with an artist he admired. I loved him, deeply.  That love manifested itself in uplifting ways. To me, G was always attentive, caring, and gentle. Don't I deserve that kind of love from myself?

I've realized I now I have to examine this question: how do I love others in ways I also deserve? how do others love me in ways I deserve from myself?

I struggle with a few minor medical problems. If G were to grow frustrated or fear the future, I would be comforting. To me, he was always hopeful and understanding.

If he was upset with a failure, I would always remind him that it wasn't a representation of his entire existence, but rather an opportunity for growth. For me, he'd do the same.

If he couldn't see the beauty in himself, I would try to remind him it was all around him and within him. For me, he'd remind me of the same.

That's a lot of love and understanding I never thought I owed myself.

It's time for that to change.