Me, Robin

Showing up for yourself is a phrase I used to think was corny. I think a lot of things around self-love still feel corny to me. In my eyes it’s always sounded a little embarrassing – to make caring for yourself something atypical. Which, to be honest with myself, it has been. And now I’m trying to look ahead and see which new things have become visible in my future.

I went to a party (a great opening line for any blog post) and had a fantastic time. A romp. A hoot and a half. I felt loved, I felt seen, and I also felt like I deserved it. Whatever that means – love isn’t earned, only received – but I did feel like I did everything right. So let’s stay there. I did everything right. I loved, and I was loved. It’s enough to make you sit and think, days later. Enough to make you want to write it down.

But an important reason I’m writing it down is that I also loved myself. Because I showed up for myself, and made a big demand to others for the respect that I deserve.

May the bridges I burn light the way

— some wise people¹

It’s a good feeling to think you may have made new friends. So when, on the way home, you get misgendered and ignored by one of those people, it throws you off. Because you wonder what went wrong, and where. I always assume, in a situation of conflict, that I may be wrong (for which I’m in therapy). In a case of being misgendered by someone who seemed fully on board all this time, it points a bright sharp spotlight at everything I’ve done to, perhaps, deserve this.

So I go quiet, and I sit back, and I am stormy-headed.

And I am pestered, some time later, as to why I stopped engaging. And is there, internet friend, invader of my public notebook, diary enthusiast, a way in which I can respond to someone else’s disrespect without showing my disappointment? Maybe for you. Maybe you’re better than me. I can’t hide that sort of thing (for which I am not in therapy). So I show my disappointment, my frustration, and perhaps even my anger. I tell the person I thought could be a new friend exactly how she made me feel, how this always makes me feel, how this always is my problem, and how it always falls on me to somehow fix their mistake. And I worry that I lost a potential new friend. And I worry that I did the wrong thing. And I worry that I burned a bridge.

But perhaps that is what I need to be there for myself. Perhaps the bridges I burn can light the way. Perhaps the way I stand up for myself can be a lesson for how I love.

If I’m standing anyway,

What will I stand for? For myself. For love. For what love? How much love do I embody? How much love dare I give, and how much dare I expect? Dare I expect it in return? Dare I think I deserve it? Have we not established that love is never deserved? That will remain in the dark for me. But perhaps I will find another bridge to cross.