A personal dislike.

This isn't a new story. The themes, the reasons... The only new bit is for me to write it out, for really anyone to read. I'm not writing what comes next for any amount of sympathy either. If after reading, you think it's a good idea to just "check in to see how I'm doing" you can kindly fuck off.

That being said- I'm about to write some fucked up shit about myself.

I often don't like myself. It's a thing. I can't tell you when it started either. The older I get, the less frequent. Still, it happens enough. "But Niki, you seem so happy all of the time? Content and what not". That's just as true. This is where things not being as easy as black and white comes into play. Layers, things being dynamic... and well, an ability honed early to fake the shit out of the bad days.

Anyway, I at least know I was young. Not too too young. My earliest days are ones I imagine in technicolor, and can hear the theme songs of my youth playing in the background- DJ'd by my amazing parents, of course. Maybe it's when I hit puberty, that absolute minefield most of us barely got out of alive. Well, whenever the hell it began, it's when I started to notice things. Don't get me wrong, during the technicolor years I wasn't necessarily naive. I knew I fit into the "other" category before all the big changes happened.

Then things came into focus. Those of you who wear glasses know what I mean. Between looking at the world without them, and then slipping your glasses up the bridge of your nose. That snap moment when your eyes adjust, and whoa. I realized all I was, and that knocked me for a six. I was a little colored queer girl, who people wouldn't like for all of the above.

I didn't grow up in the dark ages. Gay wasn't as taboo, but still. Being black wasn't like the age of Jim Crow, but come on. Women's lib had kicked into gear so long before, but fack. Different parts and people in the world were telling me I had things wrong with me. Things that made me a sinner, things that made me a second class citizen- even things that at one point were considered a mental illness. I internalized it. I chewed and swallowed the the lies, and vitriol.

I got it, and I still do- not everyone is going to like you. You can't control what people think and feel about you, you shouldn't care. Good on you to the people who can do that. I'm telling you, it chips away at you. One micro aggression after another. People who fit into any of the categories I listed above will get it- you never get to turn it off. So I started to genuinely dislike myself. Becoming resentful. My hair, my looks, who I fell for. I could hide aspects, absolutely. I could "technically pass" if I took certain measures, all the while compiling more and more reasons to dislike me.

This early dislike, this tearing myself up inside I think is 100% why I focus so much on my love life, and why it has been the sweeping ridiculous journey it's been.

All I've ever wanted was for someone to love me unconditionally.

I can say with absolute certainty I have never had that from a significant other.

I often can't see what other people do- an accomplished woman, beautiful, capable, strong, opinionated, nurturing, respectful, and loving. Turn it all on it's head- that's what I see. Failing, ugly, spineless, worthless, hateful, undeserving. It's that punch to the gut kind of a feeling again and again. The exotic bird who can't see the beauty in her feathers, just her difference.

Yea, yea I know the lines that come next, "No one can truly love you, until you love yourself" and every other similar and cliche line. Listen folks, I didn't say I disliked myself all the damn time. I am a woman who seems to have nothing but serious relationships- my pendulum is gonna swing when I'm with someone for years.

In finding people one after the other who needed fixing, needed me, deep down I hoped I would fix the bits within myself I didn't like. We all know how that ends. Badly. Over and over. I didn't have to concentrate on me- my flaws, my shortcomings. The moments when my confidence was shattered, and all I wanted was to be rescued- these people were ill equipped to reciprocate. To give as I gave. They never expected to have to lift me the way I lifted them. I'd fooled them, just as much as I fooled myself on the faking it days. If I didn't think I was deserving, it wasn't going to work.

I'm told to concentrate on the rest- how much I've achieved, where I've been, what I've seen. How people see me, what kind of impact I've had. That's all well, and good. I know what I want. To be loved as me- all of me. Especially during the bad spells. Especially when I don't even begin to like myself.

The rest won't matter whenever I die. How hard I worked, how much shit I bought. I've never been known for being particularly materialistic. Love is the thing, you know. I want love.

Back to this not being a new theme- who doesn't want love? It's why I've settled though. For less. Why I haven't met them yet. Why on the nights when I'm alone, the demons I've described try to knock on my door. They don't always make it through, but often enough. To love as I have in my dreams, to not be left to envy those who don't appreciate what it is they have when they've found someone to share their life with.

I often times don't like myself. I've got a bit more time to chew on that.

Not a pinch of sense.

I don't know what's come over me. Honestly, I don't. I keep trying to make sense of it.

One thing I've always been able to make sense of were my wandering emotions- up until now. I'm trying to, oh so much. Trying to sort through why thoughts and feelings I'm having are even evident. I thought they were gone. Maybe they were just suppressed? I worked so hard to let go.

The bigger issue here is this- they have no real provocation. No root. No where to go. There's no reason for them to exist, because they are unrequited. Just doors that were never properly closed.

They began in my dreams. Stirring there in the absence of thought, just feeling. I'd wake up and find myself sad. Sad because they weren't my reality. With other goings on in my life... I wanted to escape back to within that place. Into the technicolor false reality of what ifs and never coulds.

I can't imagine why I feel this way. I shouldn't. It's not that I don't have the right. It's that they have no place here. Nothing can grow. The soil isn't fertile, what was there couldn't bloom again. Could it?

The ponderings of a heart and mind unsure. Of one with unfinished business, and lack of emotional direction. I just don't know. I'm someone who has always known, even when I knew things were meant to end.

I've tried letting logic play a role. Now I'm even more at a loss than I was before. As much as I can't control the weather, I can't control this. I swear I want to, but that isn't even true.

Whether an aberration, or not. I'm left waiting, and wanting. Dreaming, even hoping. For all, or nothing. Right or wrong have gone by the wayside.

None of it makes a pinch of sense. Then again, have I ever?

Running out of breath, to remind myself to breathe.

My ribs still hurt. So do my hands from clenching them. I hold my breath, to compensate for the fact my breathing and heart rate speed up. Makes no sense, since I feel like I can't breathe. It starts with a buzzing, static- like on an old tv when you were trying to tune it. I know why they use the word panic to start, because you are. Panicking.

I knew that day one was coming. They also seem to manifest in front of people I don't want to see them. Stupid fucking body. Should have stayed home that day.

It's like an emotional let down, or really overload? I'm carrying too much. I'm tired. Wrung out. My body is telling me I'm really not in control of a damn thing, and here's the proof. Maybe if I asked for help...

So of course, I chase that. Lack of control. How no matter what I plan, learn, love, work- I can only control the controllable. The things within my scope, my edge. 

I swear these moments- my overloaded system, my lack of forcing things to be the way I want, it's a bigger reminder. Niki, you don't know shit. Really, that's okay. Things will happen as they should, there are so many more factors than the way I want things to go. 

And it's all turned out the way it was supposed to. I run out of breath, to remind myself to breathe. I dream, to push the limits of my imagination. I learn to understand more. I love to push the capacities of my heart. 

Maybe it is weakness, the panic attacks. Maybe not. Maybe they manifest in moments I wish they didn't, to humble the shit out of me. 

I'll keep running out of breath, to remind myself to breathe.

the wrong kind of selfish.

I know things don't occur in a vacuum. I know this, and yet... Seriously Niki- it's not all about you. So why do I take it all on me?

When I haven't got the job, or lose friendships. When relationships don't work out, or whatever. My first instinct is the mentally eviscerate myself. What could I have done better? What can I fix? What do I need to do so this doesn't happen again?

Yea dude, that isn't how it works. Sometimes shit doesn't work out. And though I can learn from each instance, I need to stop making it all about me. There's nothing wrong with taking a self inventory, but I take it to a whole other level. Maybe I didn't fit the parameters of the job. Maybe those friends needed or wanted something I couldn't offer, the same with relationships. It's not for me to say. So why can't I stay in my lane? Why do I take on full responsibility for others? They aren't doing the same for me. They aren't.

The things I've tried and failed at can't all be put at my feet. I'm not even sure when I started operating this way. It's especially bad in my relationships. If I give them my best, they'll have to do the same right? Wrong. I didn't fail them. I didn't fail myself. They chose, and I can't control what they've done with what I had to offer.

I write this, full well knowing I will have to give myself this speech over and over again. Maybe that's why I'm writing it in the first place. It's not my fault. I am not unlovable. I'm smarter than I think. I am fully capable. I am more than worthy. When one of these situations I've highlighted or others don't seemingly go my way- it is not my fault. This isn't even about fault.

I know if I'm prepared, I know if I'm open. I know if I put my best foot forward. That's all I can do. It's all I can offer. It's more than enough. So I need to check my ego at the door, shake it off, and try again.

Past twitterpatted.

“You like because, and you love despite. You like someone because of all of their qualities, and you love someone despite some of their qualities..."- The Set Up

Twitterpatted. Maybe you don't know what that is. It's when you're head over heels, in the honeymoon phase, googly-eyed over someone. You don't see anything but the good, you start to exhibit aberrant behaviors... you're in.

Then the dust settles a bit. You were "normal" people before meeting one another. You had other priorities before they came onto the scene. So the pendulum swings again.

Now you start to get into the meat of the person. What are their dreams? How do they see things? Will they enhance your happiness, or drain from it?

I have to be a little more aware. I know this about myself. I will always see the potential in people. Let me say that again- I will ALWAYS see the potential in people. I don't just see the good, I see who they can be. Not just my dream version. I have to remember it's okay to encourage, but not to do for them. I can aid them in things, but not problem solve. Funnily enough, I don't ever expect them to reciprocate these things.

Falling is easy. Staying is hard. We've all heard relationships are work, but do we really get it? Even the best of them- the ones when you see your equal and your likeness in them, those are hard work.

All you can do is hope. Hope they choose you everyday the way you choose them. They create space for you, make you a priority. Don't categorize you as a stressful something, rather as someone they want around even on the bad days.

Someone who doesn't just tell you you are special, but understands it. Doesn't abuse what you have to offer. And all of this vice versa. You have to get it too.

Maybe you fall in love. Maybe not. Maybe you build a future. Maybe you don't. It's the remembering not to settle. Not to settle for less than you deserve.

Once you're past twitterpatted, and they still work to meet your love languages. They aren't confused about you, they know. They're open to the possibility... of something. They won't take you for granted.

There's so much magic, heartbreak, and love beyond twitterpatted. When you're ready to let go.

insecurity.

in·se·cu·ri·ty

/ˌinsəˈkyo͝orədē/

noun

1. 1.

   uncertainty or anxiety about oneself; lack of confidence.

"But you seem so confident?" I hear it often, actually.

The voice in my head laughs. There are dual sides to everything, isn't there?

I have never felt smart enough. It's why I always study, always read. I'm voracious for information, because if I don't constantly seek knowledge, then the truth will come out. I don't know anything. I am not smart. Everyone will know.

I vacillate between feeling beautiful. The older I get, the more comfortable I am proclaiming it. But it took so long. So long. Once I embraced my skin, the texture of my hair, how much I didn't look like everyone else... Even so, I never feel more beautiful than when my person tells me so. Funny, that.

I don't feel deserving. Of a happy ending. Of my dreams. If was all up to hard work, I would have had several perfect storylines. That is not the case. If it came down to gumption, well goddamn. I wouldn't be writing this. With every twist of the tale, with every unexpected drop in my stomach, I wonder if I will get it.

Then my duality kicks in again. Sometimes the switch flips several times a day. Sometimes swathes of time go by.

So am I insecure? Of course I am. Less often than before, to be sure. That being said, how much sweeter the days I don't feel it at all.

fresh lens.

Look at it through a fresh lens.

You repeat this to yourself over and over. They are different than the rest. Not perfect. Different.

But they inadvertently use the same words, the same phrases. You mentally knee jerk in response.

They aren't the same. This isn't the same.

Remind yourself of the differences. For starters- you are different. You aren't the sixteen year old girl. The twenty-six year old. The thirty-year old. You aren't the in between.

This is the most current and authentic version of you. You've attracted something different. You've chosen differently.

Just because they... that was them. Leave it there.

Look at it through a fresh lens.