Poem: Amour de Soi

[shiori_makiba]

Poem: Amour de Soi

by shiori_makiba

Word Count: 603 words in 89 lines

Part of the 'Ohana series. Inspired by a prompt from ysabetwordsmith for the February 2016 Thank Muse Its Friday.

Warning!: References to attempted suicide, poor-self image, and other assorted bits of bad tape. Character's current environment is safe and supportive but please consider your head space.

 

“Amour de Soi”

People often say bad things

about loving yourself.

They equate it with

selfishness, narcissism, egotism,

and all bunch of other -isms.

 

And if love of self were only those things,

then perhaps they would be right to be disdainful.

 

But to Martin, it meant loving yourself

like you did the others in your life.

Treating yourself with the same

dignity, respect, compassion, and affection.

Believing yourself worthy of those things.

 

The first person you have to like is yourself.

After all, you have to live with you.

And if you don't like yourself very much,

it is very hard to connect with others

in a healthy manner.

 

This was a truth that Martin knew all too well.

He had spent most of his life disliking himself.

Sometimes even hating himself.

Those days had been the worst.

He came the closest to killing himself

during those dark days.

 

The problem was that he had difficulty saying

what exactly about himself that he thought

was so awful.

It all just seemed to be wrong and

yet not wrong.

 

He didn't think he was ugly.

He didn't think he was handsome either.

He thought he looked average.

Just your generic white guy

who wasn't too tall or too heavy

with dull brown hair and eyes.

Nothing remarkable,

nothing that would stand out.

 

Not that he liked the idea of standing out exactly.

He wasn't that fond of being the center of attention.

It just seemed like everyone's eyes glazed over him

like he wasn't even there.

It was the invisible feeling he hated.

 

When people did notice him,

he seemed to confuse them.

He was told that he didn't “feel” like a guy.

Not even a gay guy.

 

He wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean.

Was it was because how he walked?

Talked? Groomed himself?

That he liked to cook and to sew

but also liked football and mountain-climbing?

 

His confused sexuality didn't help matters.

Everyone else seemed to know who they were.

He knew he liked men and women about the same.

He thought they were cute or charming or beautiful or handsome.

It was the sex part that confused him.

He didn't mind affection.

He didn't even find the idea of sex itself repugnant.

He just didn't want to have sex with a stranger.

It weirded him out that other people often did.

 

It wasn't until later that he learned what that meant

and that there was nothing wrong with him.

 

He felt better about himself now.

The result of having a good therapist.

Dr. Chandra had met him after

one of his more serious suicide attempts.

And unlike the others before herself,

actually seemed interested in helping him as a person.

She stuck with him.

 

Taught him how to see himself as worthy.

As deserving of respect and compassion.

To stop letting people hurt him just

because he wasn't exactly like them.

 

That just because his family didn't love him,

didn't mean that no one ever would.

 

It took years to get him where he was now.

He and Dr. Chandra still talked.

Especially on bad days

when his bad tape played really loud.

 

Or when he needed help with his new family.

Martin wasn't the only one in the family

whose ability to love himself had been stomped

into the ground by society.

And some of them weren't yet

willing to see Dr. Chandra.

 

He hoped that he was helping.

He hated to see his partners in pain.

He knew they loved him.

But sometimes the hardest thing in the world

to do was to simply love yourself.