Thursday, November 18, 2010

I came to the realization yesterday that I don't allow my parents to love me.

I know that this must kill them. I wish that they could understand why. I wish that I could understand why.

Because I think that allowing somebody to love you is a beautiful thing.

3 comments:

  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Wow! There's some complex stuff happening here. Care to elaborate? That's what I think a blog is partly for--to explore thoughts and emotions.

    Why don't you allow your parents to love you? Here's just a guess: Because you don't love yourself. Because you don't believe you're lovable. Because you don't believe you deserve their love.

    Hopefully, I haven't hit a nerve here. But that's what my blog is all about--coming to a place of loving yourself so you can accept love from others. Love is the only thing that really matters in life (but you already knew that, right?).

    Don't worry, Neal, you are not alone. I believe we've all been where you are. Give it time. The first step is acknowledging you don't love yourself. The second is taking deliberate and conscious steps to turn that around (changing the chatter in your head, not putting yourself down anymore, not believing what the world tells you about yourself, accepting you deserve love).

    It's all doable. Only you can make this happen. Let me know if I can help in any way. You deserve so much better.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Hey Rick!

    As always, I appreciate your input. I am going to say that I don't really think that this comes to an inability for me to love myself. Really, I think the challenge here is that I don't really "like" my parents most of the time.

    But that may be changing bit by bit.

    My mother and I had the first chance to talk about being gay in over a year this past weekend. I think she felt relieved, particularly when she heard that I do not anticipate a life of loneliness - but of one wrapped up in the arms of a beautiful relationship, a man that I will love with every pore of my skin and thread of muscle in my heart.

    I don't think she had any idea I was so "poetic" either. She cried a bit when I talked about romance.

    In a good way.

    ReplyDelete