I used to live with a recurring nightmare: a half-dead baby lying inert in my arms; me sobbing: "who could have done this to you?"
After years, I figured out its meaning. The baby was me. And I was the one who had starved it to death. Out of shame and disgust, I had hid the baby (my female identity) from view. I choked off its voice to the point of suffocation.
This realization was my turning point. From that moment on, I vowed to do everything I could to nurture that baby back to life.
Seeing my predicament from a parent's point of view was helpful. As a parent, how could I help but protect this child?
And now I fight every day to rebuild that child's sense of self-worth. In my case, it wasn't the rest of the world that failed that child. It was I.
I have come to realize that valuing yourself isn't a form of self-indulgence. It is the birthright of the person inside.
I know that this can be hard to feel when so many around you look away. But your job as a "parent" is to protect the person within and to make them feel worthy of love. It's hard work, but you're worth it.
You're darn well worth it!