This Valentine’s Day I’m going to write about the hardest person to love: myself. …EW, GROSS, LOL, WUT, Y?
Yep. Cliché and cheesy. As I’ve said a permanent goodbye to my Valentines over the last several years, I’ve evolved and changed in ways I truly wish I never had to know.
…And I’ve also changed in ways I will cherish until my death day comes too.
There’s room for both.
My Lifelong Valentines & Shaping my Identity
I truly had a queen of a mom. She was all the good things in this world. Big things like a champion for the underserved and a force in our community for charitable giving and work. She was also all the great mom things: we talked about everything and saw each other almost every day, she loved Kassie and I unconditionally, she’d bring me treats and lay in bed with me on my most difficult days, and she was really fun, grounded, and honestly super cool. Like, unsuspectingly cool.
Mom was a vibe and my best first valentine.
I also had a rockstar of a husband. He was the best feminist, loving + empathetic atheist, progressive, science-driven, kind, quirky human. He’s the one that pushed me intellectually for thirteen years. He was always there when he needed to be, and stepped back when it was my turn to step up: my biggest cheerleader and confidant. Just like I was for him. Not only was he all of those big husband-ey things: but he also introduced me to gaming and Markiplier, he was always down for being wild, loud, and goofy, and his wit really pushed mine because I was zero wittiness and all high school drama vibes when we first met.
Aaron was the best partner and goofball. My best first romantic valentine.
Both mom and Aaron were the core of my identity. Truly. When my mom died, I was (still am) a little kid constantly trying to find their mom in the grocery store: lost and alone. A piece of my identity shattered when mom took her permanent trip and I’ll never get that piece back now.
Then Aaron died. My partner of thirteen years. And not just thirteen years: but since we were kids. I met him when I was more worried about shopping at Hollister and he was playing Eve every evening. I am who I am now in large part because of Aaron. We grew together, figured out our belief systems together, made big decisions together, faced difficult times together, pushed each other, and simultaneously loved, supported, cherished, and annoyed each other to no end…together. If you knew Aaron, you knew he was basically a genius: but in the most oddball, real, awesome, overthinking, quirky way.
Then suddenly…He was gone. Aaron was my adult identity. We were enmeshed. It was always “Aaron and Kari.” And while we were fortunate to have found such a fun, dynamic, deep relationship at 17 years old: I’ve realized young marriage (even in it’s most amazing, progressive, non-traditional form) gave me an identity of “me and Aaron” instead of me simply being me. I wouldn’t trade that experience and those years today.
So – needless to say – I’m a little screwed up this valentines day. I think I’ll always be walking the grocery store halls searching for my mom and Aaron while simultaneously eating lots of cheap chocolate hearts.
And I’ll allow space for searching the grocery store. But I’m also consciously working on creating space to be my own damn valentine.
And we’re talking the new, screwed-up, very wholly and openly human me. The most romantic of Valentines, ya know?
I have an identity, but it’s not the identity from several years back. It’s a new one with small pieces of the old.
As I figure out this identity on my own, here’s what – if I could write myself a love letter – I’d be most proud of. Here’s how this new life I’ve been given has changed me.
This is why I’m my own damn valentine this year.
A Love Letter (list-style) to Myself
1 – A gained perspective. This week, as I was giving Sloan a bath, I broke down in the most dramatic way and thanked her for the perspective she’s given me on life. Mid-bath. (TBH I don’t think she loved that, but she’s numb to my breakdowns now so we are cool.)
I truly feel like, through heavy life-changing experiences, we gain new perspectives. We dive deeper into life: the good and bad. I now know the difference between what can change, and what comes to a permanent end.
Sometimes things simply change.
Change can be good and bad.
Careers change, finances change, life paths change. We get on board with change eventually, and we move forward full-force.
And some things simply end.
Lives end. Relationships end. Good health ends.
I’ve learned the difference between the change and the end, and it’s given me a perspective that I do feel an inexplicable type of gratitude for. Even if it’s for the shittiest reasons.
2 – I’m whole on my own. I love Sloan. I love Aaron. I love my mom.
But I’m not only Sloan’s mom.
I was never only Aaron’s wife.
Not only Kim’s daughter.
I’ve learned I’m a combination of all of those and so much more than that combo too.
I love Sloan, mom, and Aaron dearly. But it’s up to me now. It lands on me to pursue what comes next, my future, and what I do with these experiences I’ve had. I’ll continue forward aiming for big (and small) things for Sloan, Aaron, and mom: but especially for me.
3 – I’m still me. Still silly. Still quirky. Still Loud. These traits are uniquely mine. Always were, always will be.
I’ll still never be able to successfully talk the corporate talk, or support self-help books and life coaches. I’ll always be the one that brings light-heartedness and humor, while also making things a little awkward.
I’ll continue to watch Real Housewives, take bad selfies, and enjoy watching makeup tutorials. And I’ll forever pick my battles now: there are battles I fight and battles I don’t see worth fighting.
I’ll use whatever silliness, quirkiness, and loud-naturedness I’ve been given to try to be a good human: uplifting others and trying to make the world the tiniest bit better. I’ll make mistakes, learn, and move forward.
I’m flawed, funny, sad, and whole. Uniquely me.
4 – Aaron continues. He’s there and will always be a key part of me. I mean, he’s in Sloan’s literal DNA for gods sake. He’s with me when I attend Sloan appointments or get the courage to speak up during rounds, he’s with me when I listen to philosophical podcasts and have pretend debates with him about religion and philosophy, he’s with me when I speak up on behalf of him and advocate for his truth and life experience. Something I won’t ever give up on.
I’m the gatekeeper of Aaron’s experience, truth, and life: and I’ve got his back. I love Aaron. Flaws and all.
5 – Mom continues. She raised me to be Kari Austin Harbath. She raised me to stick up for myself and take no shit. She raised me to extend a hand when others are truly in the thick of it and things aren’t pretty: struggling in big life ways. She raised me to cheer others on when they are kicking ass at life. She’s with me when I drink an unsweetened iced tea, she’s with me when I snuggle Sloan, and she’s with me when I mess up: still always loving me unconditionally.
I love mom. I always will. Even if I might be forever traumatized by how loudly she chewed her mints.
5 – Reality and depth is my specialty. I always had a knack for not avoiding anything ever. Mostly to people’s annoyance and exhaustion.
But after all of this life shit, I’ve realized it’s a strength of mine.
I haven’t avoided the hard stuff the last few years: and it helps me to sit in my reality when it’s both good and bad. I’ve established meaningful connections with others and find myself having deep conversations everywhere I go. The connection and depth is real and I love it. I am grateful for the ability to foster that connection through my own heavy life experience and moments.
6 – Speaking up and setting boundaries. This one is pretty straightforward: but I have always sucked at setting boundaries and speaking up. I want everyone to be happy, the peace to be kept, and to be well-liked. (LOL that’s just the real tea: Michael Scott and I have a lot in common tbh.)
Aaron was a pro at speaking up and setting boundaries, my mom was also a pro, but I floundered in the face of it every time.
I’m on my own now. No mom or Aaron to take the lead. And I have a tiny human who depends on my every move. These experiences have allowed me to step back and realize in order to move forward, I have to set boundaries and speak up to protect me and Sloan, too.
7 – Death is imminent. I’m not afraid anymore. It’s really not as dark as it sounds: but I’m not afraid of death anymore. Not at all. Which allows me to wonder more deeply: what comes next, if anything? And it also allows me to live in the reality that at any time our life can simply end.
So I’m going to spend my time doing what I want…Which, now, happens to be a combo of eating snacks and watching trash TV while also publicly sharing our deepest, darkest life moments to connect with others who might be feeling tired or alone.
It’s a solid mix of meaningless and meaningful. And I really cherish living with both.
8 – I can only control and fully know myself. I am my own best and worst valentine simply for this reason. I’ve learned a hard lesson that we can’t ever fully know someone: no matter how much we think we do. I will forever be a bit guarded for that reason now, but I also know that I can trust myself and my future in a deeper way than ever before.
I’ve been through the worst and I’m still sitting here.
So now I know I can continue forward to whatever comes next: the good and bad.
9 – Love comes with horrific pain. But I’ll still choose love…I guess, lol. Love is something everyone aspires to find. That’s why there’s an entire genre of romantically cheesy novels, movies, etc. And when you find love the, society deems it as peak life success. YAY for weddings and engagements and perfectly-posed insta photos!
But nobody talks about the risk of losing love. Where are society’s expectations then? Where’s the support for simply surviving lost love, because the pain feels like it’s too much to bear?
When you lose love, that pain lives with you forever. It changes but never goes away. And that initial moment of grief is quite frankly unbearable. It changes you physically, emotionally, and mentally. Forever. I’m currently working on (in the words of my therapist) developing neural pathways of positivity and joy again.
But – in the spirit of Valentine’s Day – I’d take the depths of love and meaningful human connection with the pain of loss and permanent goodbyes any day.
Not saying it’s easy. It couldn’t be more opposite. But it’s worth it.
So, here we are. I’m my own damn valentine.
And from one screwed-up, whole human to another: how do you see yourself as your valentine today? What are you proud of? What makes you sad?
And what would you say in a love letter to yourself?
I dare you to take a moment to write one.
<3 – Kari
