It’s spring and we are driving to the coast on our first getaway together with no real plans but to enjoy each other’s company. I am nervous, but as soon as we are in the car together, it fades. His presence is calm and soothing. He makes me laugh easily and often. We drive through mountain passes to the coast. We stand on the deck of the ferry breathing salt air, watching a seal poke it’s way along the edge of the water where waves slip up and down the rocks.
We eat good food, laugh, and talk. Our little cabin has abundant natural light, flowy white curtains, and a wood stove. It’s tucked into the forest in a quiet neighborhood. Frank Ocean croons from our speakers. I laugh more than I have in a long time.
We lay on the bed, him on his back, me tucked in under his arm, my head resting on his chest. We have had too much good seafood and craft beer and can’t move.
“I like you,” he says.
“I like you too,” I say.
“That’s starting to feel weird now,” he says.
“What do you mean?” but I know exactly what he means.
“It’s not really how I feel,” he sighs. He pauses for a long time, takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes. I wait.
“I love you.” He says, with a deep surrender in his voice.
I kiss him.
“I love you.” I say, and smile at him.
He exhales with joy and relief, although I know he did not expect me to say it back. That’s what was so beautiful about it, that he gave it to me without expecting any of it in return.
For most of my life I have had a deep feeling that I am unworthy. I am damaged, insufficient, not enough. I told him that, later, after he had told me that he loved me. I told him I did not ever feel worthy of anybody’s love or time or attention. He held me close and told me that he understood, but that it was also absurd.
The next day, we wander through the neighborhood forest on a magical little quest, our mood elevated and senses altered with the help of our mushroom friends. Our little cabin has become a cozy fairy tale cottage. The paths through the woods lead us on a fantasy journey, twisting and turning about the neighborhood. Every animal we meet is a friend, every plant breathing and shifting. Every tree winks at us. “Welcome to the secret world, the real world. The way things really are, underneath it all,” they all say.
It drizzles slightly and we hear a loud repeated warning call from a robin, irate and frantic. I look up, and sitting on a branch, eyes only half open in the sunlight shifting through the rain, is a barred owl. The irritated robin dives at it, shouting it’s warning to the rest of the forest block. We watch for a while, joking and laughing, not at all surprised that we have run into an owl only a few minutes into our journey. Later, at the end of the journey, we run into the same owl again, perched on a wire on a neighborhood street.
I have never been so completely present, never felt so completely free.
At the peak of the journey, so they say, we return to our fairy tale cottage and lie on the bed together, in that same position where we fit so perfectly. The light dances across the walls, dappled by swaying branches outside. The white curtains diffuse it to a gentle glow. We listen to music and are silent for a long time. Suddenly he says, “I can’t believe that you could ever feel like you aren’t good enough to be loved.”
And something inside me cracked. Something broke open and fell exactly into place. It just clicked. I began to laugh, and tears rolled down my face. It was completely absurd. How could I feel like I was not enough? I am just a piece of nature, of life. I am a fire flicker in the cosmos, a leaf on the great tree. I am life, connection, and peace. I am love incarnate. I truly am enough simply because I exist. And if I were to state that I am not worthy, then I would also be saying that nature itself is not worthy, and that is absurd.
Never before in my life had I felt what it really feels like to love yourself. It’s not a garrison of rigid self defense, thick walls and armored plates declaring that all others stay out, because you are afraid to let yourself be touched by them. It’s not a subservient bow begging for love through self-sacrificial offerings to others, either.
It's a deep, quiet, holy surrender. It is giving for the pure joy and openness of it, requiring nothing in return. It is understanding that I am just a piece of the shimmering soul of nature, of life, of God, in a human body.
I know that we are supposed to learn to love ourselves first before we love others. I know we are supposed to reject codependence and build our finely tuned and perfectly structured home around ourselves entirely before we let someone else into it. But I also know that I needed a little help putting the roof on that home. I have never been able to access as deep of a level of self-love as I can now. I had never known what it felt like until somebody showed me.
There is healing we are meant to do alone, but there is also so much deep healing to be done in relationship. We can become so much more relationally than we are capable of alone.
For that love, and for psilocybin, I am grateful with a deep surrender.
I’m glad you enjoyed it. Honestly it was a fleeting realization, it fades and I have to work on it every day. But remembering that feeling helps make it attainable more often.
I love this. And so happy that you have found someone that makes you feel good about yourself .