
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.