A Journey to the Center of my Heart

I woke up on my 27th birthday, just a few weeks ago, and everything felt different. I sort of chalked this up to being some kind of weird birthday energy, and continued through my day. The feelings of love, however, had an idea of their own. All day I found myself overcome with happiness and would cry, though they were tears I had not felt before. By the end of the day (a very heartwarming, spiritual day filled with self-love), I realized something very important. I love myself. I love myself to pieces in fact. It was the first birthday (and possibly the first time ever that I can remember) where I felt so much unconditional love for myself that I actually cried. I felt (and still feel) so happy to be me. I fell asleep that night with tears in my eyes, thinking there must be something wrong, and if not that, then I must be really close to my period. Either way, I felt in love. The next morning, I woke up crying as well and so I pulled out my journal and just let it all out. I felt this sense of love, gratitude, happiness, love, motivation, excitement, and so many other things. I felt like I was holding my heart in my arms and was surrounded in a bubble of white light. And this is how I have felt since that day.

Love is an interesting thing for me. As a child I learned that love means taking care of someone else and making them happy. I can remember always wanting to make everyone around me happy. I did not learn until later on, about four years ago, that in order to be able to take care of others, I first needed to care for myself. I viewed taking care of myself as loving myself. About six months ago, I realized that to love myself is so much more than to just care for myself. Love is more than taking a shower or cleaning my house or staying on top of my laundry. Love is self-nurturing, self-forgiveness, fun, playing, relaxing, resting, tapping into and allowing my creative side to show, dancing, and just really listening to myself. Love is not just about caring for my body, but also about caring for my mind. So, is it ironic that since I have begun to learn about love, I have completely stopped writing? A little. I used to write a lot as a kid, but mostly stories about the sort of life I wanted to lead. This stopped when I was about ten, and after that I would write only about wanting a boyfriend. Then when I finally did have a boyfriend, I wrote my heart out, but it was all very dark, sad, negative, and mostly had to do with how much love hurt. When I got into the relationship that I am currently in, I felt love, but I could not write about it. I felt like my muse for writing was pain. I had no idea how to write about love and things going well in my life. So aside from a few birthday cards here and there, I had given up on writing, until now of course. Suddenly I want to write only of love, both of life, myself, and my love for other people. I want to pour my heart out and allow others to read it. I want to share my love for myself and my views about love, life, and the world and my own experience as a human. I am coming out a "shell" that I created a long time ago, and I am making myself vulnerable and it feels so GOOD. So this is my journey, and I invite anyone to follow along and watch me write my way through my process of finding my way to my heart, and staying there.