Just say the affirmations, they claimed, and you’ll believe them. So over and over I repeated the Louise Hay affirmations that seemed to dust everyone else’s life with a perfect sheen. I used them tenaciously each day to make me love my 20-something-year-old body that was falling apart at the seams. To make me love the me inside, too.
I love myself.
I accept myself.
I am perfect.
All will be well.
But I just kept believing that these things could only be true if. I would love and accept myself and I’d be perfect and all would be well surely, if I made more money, if I could heal this unruly body of mine, and if my partner accepted me more …
So, I said those affirmations louder and harder.
I fucking love myself.
I fucking accept myself.
I am fucking perfect.
All will be fucking well.
Then one morning, I listened very closely to the gaps between my assertions.
I love myself.
I hate myself.
I accept myself.
I reject myself.
I am perfect.
I am a mess.
All will be well.
It’s all a fucking lie. Continue Reading…