Never Is A Long Time

It took me a long time to realize how much I hated weekends. Yes, I "hated" weekends. Hate was a word I had vowed "never" to use again after the childhood experiences of living in a hated-filled house. This was in addition to hating myself for a long time. Then I discovered I was doing the very thing I vowed never to do. Hating. I told myself I had eradicated hate from my life, never to do it again. Well, I had been hating weekends, and never is a long time.

The weekends in childhood meant everyone was home, and the head games, craziness and codependency was at a peak. I would have done anything to escape that "lunatic asylum," as I called it. Weekend as an adult was when I faced myself, when the distractions of work were absent and the things I found most painful in front of me. Family, being a parent, a partner, being myself. Being a victim.

It took me a long time to figure out why I found these things so painful. I had done my level best to avoid those feelings. Slowly, I started facing them. Slowly I stopped hating myself. Slowly I discovered the nature of my mistaken beliefs. Slowly I am replacing them with beliefs of love.

Now I have stopped hating weekends. The weekend is now my favorite time. And while I think about it, was hating my weekends a form of hating myself?. My message is simple. Keep moving forward, getting closer every day to your own heart.

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