Recently featured in Marie Claire Magazine, dating expert Brandon Aki is the perfect mix of education and experience. He's the real-life HITCH for women.


  1.  

    Valentines Love Letter to Self!

    Regardless of relationship status, Valentines day always affords us the opportunity to give love, but it isn’t often that we think of ourselves as the ones we can give it to… Below was a letter written to me by a long-time FB friend. It’s an important reminder that no matter what you’re going through, you must always remember to seek love from within. I hope you enjoy and apply it to your life. -Brandon

    ================

    Hi Brandon, 

    I wanted to share an exercise I tried after being inspired by a friend who recently left an abusive relationship. 


    Sarah and I went to the same high school in Florida. We became friends quickly and related to each other easily. With exceptionally high standards for ourselves, we both wanted to achieve, achieve, achieve—pushing ourselves to keep the 4.0 GPAs, hold positions for student government, Latin club, debate team, National Honor Society, win the scholarships… We stayed in touch after I moved Sophomore year. Sarah came to visit after high school and brought her new boyfriend with her. Smiling and hugging, she seemed the same girl of chaste notions, wide eyes of green, demurely present. It surprised me then, to meet Rick. A thirty-something dominant frame of sarcasm and boisterous, jejune quips. It took some cajoling for Rick to let Sarah and I talk privately over tea. Walking side by side with girlish giggles still floating in the air behind us, Sarah quickly sat down, clasped her tea cup with both hands and grew grave. She was pregnant. I wasn’t quite sure why this news left her eyes vacant and fingertips white. 


    Throughout our conversation, Sarah criticized and berated herself. She criticized her decisions, seemed unsure, questioned whether her unique and vibrant attributes were worth anything at all anymore. She no longer liked that she was a hard worker: she wanted to be a dreamer. And yet, she wasn’t doing enough; she was afraid she wasn’t smart enough: she couldn’t go back to school now; her pale skin was too pale, her hourglass frame wasn’t petite enough; Rick didn’t think she was that good of a volleyball player, so she therefor wasn’t. Dark words of self-doubt slithered in between her forced smiles. She abruptly stood and brushed the auburn hair from her neck, revealing deep ochre and green bruises. Pushing her sleeves up, puffy red scar tissue ran perpendicular to her veins. She hugged me tight and said she’d call. 


    Five years later, we were again sitting across a table from one another over tea. But this time as two 24 year old adults. Sarah’s flecked green eyes stared clear and unflinching. The corners of her freckled mouth were upturned and I thought of the fat Buddha. Conspicuously absent was a stroller, gender-specific pastels, rattling toys or binkies. What had changed? After losing the baby from a foreboding fall, Sarah left Rick in the middle of the night and sought refuge at a woman’s shelter roughly five years earlier. She had pursued extensive mental therapy, took up journal ling, and now played on a woman’s intramural volleyball team. Sarah told me when she was with Rick, her own mind had turned against her. Her relationship with him made her question her sanity and her sources of confidence. His words reminded her of her critical mother, and affirmed her own doubts that she never dare entertain while in high school. The truths she began to tell herself while with Rick seemed more powerful than the “deluding optimism” she had once known; the new perception felt familiar, and distressingly comfortable. It made the transition into his grip seamless. 


    It struck me as profound—possibly because it seemed so odd—that Sarah continually praised one exercise for learning to love herself again. She wrote Post-It notes to herself. Unable to speak to herself kindly and without bitter condemnation, she would write supportive phrases she had heard from old friends. She’d repeat them to herself, eventually summarizing in her own words. It progressed into writing soothing words to herself in her journal instead of dwelling or recounting what made her unhappy. At one point she said, she no longer needed to write the phrases down; they had become louder than the voice of her mother, or Rick. What once were other people’s words on Post-Its, became an attitude—a self-composure and internal strength that stood like a pillar when called upon. Regaining her identity, she said, was a matter of learning how to be your own lover. 

    The day Sarah opened up to me was the same day Brandon posted a simple quote on Facebook about loving yourself before loving others. It made me ask myself, when all the voices around me were silent, what voice was speaking to me? Was it loving? The more I put my focus into improving this self-talk, the easier it got to keep myself buoyant without anyone else’s reassurances. I’m convinced this is the first step toward becoming confident enough for an emotionally intimate relationship. So, thank you for posting such thought-provoking quotes Brandon. And thank you for letting me share your story, bestie Sarah. 


    I’ll be the first to admit those urges to achieve followed me to college. But one of the things that has kept my determination from becoming destructive perfectionism, is the ability to speak gently to myself. I’ve been in relationships where I needed the other person and their opinion of me in order to feel worth and confidence. But I felt so much healing in my heart after writing my first letter. Slowly, I reconciled with myself for all the times I had pushed myself to the point of breaking. I spoke gingerly, forgiving myself for replaying mistakes I’d made in the past and for living in my faults. I reminded myself of my skills, spoke hopefully about the future, and smiled proudly when I could accept compliments for the first time in my life. I noticed a change in my academic career; I was more comfortable with feelings of accomplishments and I was more resilient in times of stress. 

    Perhaps this will help someone else; it helped me, even though it felt strange at first. I adapted Sarah’s idea slightly, but the message is still the same. 


    Write a letter to yourself, a love letter. Write it as if you are you, but speak with the most comforting and supportive voices you’ve ever heard in your life (mine turned out to be the women in Sue Monk Kid’s The Secret Life of Bees). Adjust your letter and the messages you tell yourself, for those internal struggles that are uniquely your own. What would you tell your best friend when she was feeling most upset? Say those things to yourself. You deserve to hear soothing, gentle words no matter what you have or haven’t done today, no matter what’s going on, and especially if no one else is saying them to you. I have heard you must love yourself before you love others. To that I would add, love yourself so that you can accept the love of others and nothing less. 


    I practice writing these love letters to myself whenever I realize I am not in tune with my needs, when I tell myself, “I should” far too often. I write them when all I want is a strong hand on my lower back guiding me gently into bed. I write them when I’m feeling insecure, lonely, or stressed. But some of the best ones have come when I’m feeling wonderfully confident and self-assured—think of them as a surprise bouquet of flowers and thoughtful note from an admirer. 


    Here is a letter I wrote to myself when I felt so sad and tired, I couldn’t sleep, eat, or wash my makeup off: 

    Look at you beautiful, so sleepy! You’ve accomplished so much! Take the compliment, baby. So much hope and determination in you, so much fight and focus. You’re going somewhere, kid. We both know it. Don’t you be frettin about those pounds you think you see. Your health is a continuum, baby. You’ll go up as quickly as you come down, start up those habits as quickly as you dropped ‘em. You’re not your mom, honey. Every move you make you prove that, alright? Your self is fearless, it’s your perception of yourself that holds those fears. Now, baby. Clean up, wash your face, get your night shirt on and feel alive. Remember how beautiful you are, how blessed you are, how wonderful it is to be aware of yourself and all your feelings—let them flow through you without judgment. Make note, baby, of all you don’t want to feel or what’s bothering you. Make note of how it makes you feel and then let it go, don’t live in it. Brush your teeth, wash that face and remember baby girl, it’s just you and me for eternity. And I love you no matter what. I love you now, before, and will love you later. I love the skin you live in and the mind and heart you possess. I love your soul because your soul is me—I love you completely and unabashedly. You can’t hide from me and don’t be afraid of me, baby. I’m the only one that’ll ever really know you besides ol’ Big Guns Upstairs (God). Feel safe, resting by my side. Feel loved, feel so complete you can curl up in your bed, close those big brown eyes and rest gently, smiling. I love you. I’m always with you. Love, you.

    Written by Kim Neal

    1. puddlejmping reblogged this from brandonaki and added:
      everybody should read
    2. brandonaki posted this