My parents didn't teach me to love myself. They assumed I'd find someone else to do that for me. I wasn't introduced to the concept of self-love until I was out in the world and on my own. If life is a school of self-love, then my parents were certainly my first tutors, and for that I'm grateful. But it took discussions with other classmates before I came to the conclusion that I needed to make me my major in life. And even once I was consciously in school studying self-love, I still had to move my seat away from the bozos at the back of the room to get focused on what I was really doing here.
I was raised to believe that "pride cometh before the fall" and that simply isn't true; ignorance does. All the spills I've taken occurred when I ignored me, not when I was proud of myself. That's what caused me to be impatient with others, and what eventually brought on my disappointment with love.
Once I could see that the Teacher was teaching me to love the most difficult person in the whole world to love, I found I did much better in the lessons of life He was bringing me. I changed my attitude about life's spot quizzes and even felt better prepared for the final exam. When I finally achieved my Ph.D. in me, I could tell I was going to graduate this school with honors.
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