By Juliet Obaniyi<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Some days, I wish I were okay with the barest minimum of love. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wish I hadn\u2019t thought I was worthy of authentic love and had just let myself be happy with backhanded compliments. I wish I didn\u2019t have my own definition of love and simply accept the kind of love handed over to me by others. I wish I didn\u2019t desire the love that is fully present. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
On days like today, when I stand outside my brother\u2019s house and watch a couple hand in hand, with the man\u2019s attention fully given to the phone in his hand. While his woman\u2019s nudging gaze begs to be looked upon. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wish I didn\u2019t love myself enough to think I deserve someone who will be fully here with me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
On days when I read Facebook posts about women narrating the most vile things anyone could do to a loved one, and they end their stories with \u2018…But I love him, what do I do?\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I regret not being broken enough to be used as a practice equipment for tough love, dysfunctionality, and everything in between.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why do I have to love myself enough to choose me?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On such days, I wish that I didn\u2019t think I deserved so much from life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wish I hadn\u2019t refused to let it take more than it ought to take from me and give me whatever it deems fit. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I wish I weren\u2019t relentlessly guiding my peace of mind. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why couldn\u2019t I just let it all go? Take whatever comes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Moreover, love is blind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why couldn\u2019t I fall helplessly into the puddle of love?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Even twirl and wiggle like a mad woman on the streets of Ikorodu. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why do I have to be healthy enough to desire the functional kind of love?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why do I have to love myself enough to say no to dysfunction?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The truth is, self-respect is a heavy gift. It doesn\u2019t always feel like empowerment. Sometimes it feels like loneliness. Sometimes it feels like choosing silence over half-hearted conversation, or going to bed alone rather than curled up beside someone who makes you feel lonelier still.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There are days when I ache for the simplicity of surrender. To simply allow myself the warmth of another person, even a cold warmth. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why couldn\u2019t I just look away from the dysfunction and let the chaos numb me? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Why couldn\u2019t I let \u201clove is blind\u201d wash away every red flag, every dismissal, every bruise to my spirit?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But then I remember: love is peace. Blindness isn\u2019t the same as peace. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Peace is not found in lowering the bar until your worth disappears beneath it. Peace is the quiet of knowing you protected your joy, even when it cost you company.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maybe I should settle for less, but I can\u2019t. Because every time I try to imagine it, I see the me I\u2019m throwing away in the midst of it all. And she deserves more than that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Loving yourself first isn\u2019t always glamorous. It doesn\u2019t always feel empowering. Sometimes it looks like tears on the pillow, unanswered messages, or a table set for one. But beneath it all, it holds the promise of something better.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And that\u2019s why, even on the days when it feels like too much, I keep choosing me. I keep choosing the part of me that screams to be loved as I would love, loudly. To be gazed upon with fire in the eyes of my beholder. To be held by a warm heart, panting and zealous to love me fully, wholly. <\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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