Acknowledging.

To know myself is not to love myself. I know that seasonal depression sweeps in like a cold wind in the winter, one that makes it hard for me to think for the howling, windy silence in my head. I know that when there's too much happening, far too much to process, that I can and will shut down. I know that I struggle with telling my closest friends how I feel for fear of it being used against me. I know that I rarely break the cycle of suffering alone.

I know that alienating myself is not synonymous with healing. And I do it despite knowing that.

To know myself is not to love myself. I love various things about myself, love things I do, and am on the road to loving myself. But the spot where love settles and makes my fingertips tingle and heart light is beyond the chasm of internal dislike I hold for myself.

Because I do not hate myself. I hate loud scratching on chalkboards and those who interrupt others and wasting time—but not myself. That is the least I could do for myself.

I am a single raindrop in a large, thundering cloud searching for the quickest way to the ground. I am a small fish in a huge ocean that roils with harsh currents in some places and laps softly at sand and stone beaches in others. I am one bird migrating south for warmer climates amidst a giant flight.

I am learning to give myself credit for what I can do as one person. Learning to accept that I will be able to shirk away the icy jacket that I have clung to for so long. Learning that it is okay to need time and choose my words carefully and not suffer by myself.

I know myself. And to know is not to love.

But knowing myself is the first step to loving the person I am becoming.