It’s just like death to make you remember what needs to be remembered….

There was a light hidden deep within me that Louise Hay dragged out of me.

There was a time when the concept of self love was as foreign to me as speaking Latin.  There was a time when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was wrong, bad, stupid, worthless, unlovable and you can add any other shadow feeling to that list and I promise it was inside me.

I had proof.  High proof.  It was incontrovertible in fact.  I could argue and explain why I knew this to be true until there was no time left in the universe.

And then I bought her book.  I don’t know why.  It jumped out in front of me.  You can heal your life…it said.  I didn’t believe her, but still there was this voice down deep inside me…softer than the rest, which urged me forward.

I got home and started reading.  My darkest thoughts and feelings were there on the pages.  I felt seen.  Heard.  Listened to.  Acknowledged.  And it was just a book.  A tiny blue book.

And then she asked me to write down the top five things I felt I should do.  I did it.  She said to change that should to “Could“.  I did that.  And some piece of ice inside me melted…just a little.

She told me to get a mirror and look at my eyes and tell myself I loved myself and was perfect the way I am.

I got the mirror.

I couldn’t do it.

I was so ashamed.  I realized it was the root of my problems.  Of my life.  That it was true.  I could not love myself.

But I tried again.

And again.

And again.

This is how this story ends.  I tried every day for a year and two months.  A year and two months.  Every day I looked in the mirror and could not say it, or closed my eyes, or looked away. Towards the end my pupils would shift just a little as I said the world love.

And then one day…a year and two months later…I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth.  It was morning.  I had just gotten out of the shower.  My hair was wet.  I had a towel wrapped around me.  I used my hand to wipe the steam from the mirror.  I spit the toothpaste out in the sink and looked in the mirror and said, “I love you exactly as you are.”

That was it.

I looked at myself, into my eyes.  And I started crying.  I climbed up on the counter and got really close to my face and looked so deeply I could see through to other galaxies and said it again.  And again.  And again. The depth in my eyes looked back at me endlessly.  I felt the ice blocks and the chains and all the rest falling away.  I said it again.  I had my hands on the mirror…I was looking so deeply.  I was afraid to stop…that this might disappear.  I said it again.

Lousie Hay gave me this gift.  The gift of myself.

It’s how I check myself to this day.  I say it in the mirror and if my eyes get shifty I know I’m hiding something from myself. I’m my own best interests watch dog.

I opened the book again last night.  It’s been twenty years maybe since I read it.  I’m going to read it slowly.  Luxuriate in the exercises.  See how I am now all these years later.  And thank the light that was Louise Hay.