Letters to Myself, Showing Up

Letters to Myself, # 2 – Slow Down (They Don’t Love You Like I Love You)

Quotes about gratitude

(Thanks, Beyonce, for the title inspiration from your song, “Hold Up” from your best album yet, Lemonade)

****

Dear Me:

Hey there, it’s me again. I want to thank you for your response in the first letter when you reminded me throughout a really stressful, busy week last week to find and hold on to my joy.

Thanks for allowing Happier Us to stick by my side through apartment A/C issues (and getting the property manager & maintenance supervisor to realize we needed a new unit), babysitting two small, very fun and active girls two days in a row, traveling to and from Savannah in about a 36-hour period (and keeping Cynical Us from screaming “We’re going to die!” as a very exhausted us and John tried to navigate the last 30 miles home in early morning Atlanta traffic), not getting really good quality sleep, and it being so damn hot outside.

In this letter, I want to talk about something else I’ve noticed directing our life and decisions: Scarcity Mindset. The feeling that there is never enough and we are never enough. The way it makes us settle for shit we don’t want, ignore our intuition, mistreat our body, envy others whom we think have what we can’t have because they have it, pushes us so hard to try to make money any way we can to pay off our debt and be financially secure (knowing that in this mindset, no amount of money will ever make us feel secure), and keeps us trapped in comparison and feeds our feelings of inadequacy.

It isn’t our fault. We were raised in a scarcity-based environment. In America, it is called capitalism. Being shamed for our so-called inadequacies, told we can have “it all” if we just work hard enough or have enough money to buy it (ignoring all of the privileges many have that a lot were not given or born with), and being told to rest is to be lazy, worthless, and dumb.

In our family, we were taught that money is scarce as we watched our family members go into massive credit card debt and then one bankruptcy after another and saw no one ever had enough to be happy. We were taught to fear money or see it as evil. We were never taught how to be responsible with it or how to give ourselves the power over it and not the other way around.

We were taught that appearances matter most. Not who we truly were or how we truly felt, but what we and our lives looked like.

Our family tried so hard to seem financially well off and like everyone had their shit together and there were never any conflicts or issues.

Don’t you remember how Daddy was so mean to Mama, the boys, and us on the way to church and how as soon as we got out of the van and walked in the church doors, he became the man all our youth group girl friends wished their father was like, who the women Mama knew in their Sunday School group wished their husbands were like? And how as soon as we were back in the van, his friendly, warm smile returned to a sneer and his honey-dipped words returned to venom?

Or how Lib, June, Brophy, and Robert congregated on the porch, laughing and talking whenever the police showed up because someone (sometimes us) called 911 because their violent fights were so loud and frightening?

From around kindergarten up, we learned that food wasn’t a security either. It isn’t that we were really ever short on food, but it was the shame around being told we couldn’t eat the food we wanted because it was “making us fat” and being a fat girl was a vicious, dreadful sin. It ruined our “appearance” of how a thinner body was seen as beautiful, smart, hardworking, and cared for, and our fat body only showed neglect, laziness, gluttony, and lacking self-care, self-respect, self-esteem, and intelligence.

The more food was held as forbidden to us and the more we were told our body was “wrong,” the more scarce food felt to us and the more we rebelled, binged on it, and hated our self.

And in puberty, not developing breasts or round hips and instead developing rounder, broader shoulders and a rounder version of the pot belly we’ve had since infancy made us even more of a disappointment and eyesore. Here, we learned that love, acceptance, desirability, and attractiveness was scarce, and we were to blame for it.

In these times of scarcity, or perceived scarcity, we are conditioned to rush. Rush to sneak the “forbidden” food and shove it down our throat thoughtlessly, without enjoyment, and riddled with shame and self-loathing. Rush to lose weight in whatever means possible so we can finally be considered attractive, lovable, and worthwhile. Rush to do whatever we can to please others, regardless of the way we neglect our self and our needs in the meantime. And then rush to numb our pain, shame, sadness, and anger by whatever means necessary, which for us was/is food and spending too much time scrolling through the internet and social media.

There is no slowing down in this scarcity mindset. No time to think. No time to consider. There is so much to do to finally get enough so we are finally considered enough, and with every step we take, the ruler measuring success, achievement, control, safety, adequacy, and being considered worthy of love and acceptance is pushed a little further out.

Driven by this mindset, we went to a college we didn’t really like, settled on toxic behavior by men we were attracted to and wanted to feel noticed and wanted by, accepted the crumbs of attention from toxic friendships out of deep loneliness, a deep mother and father wound, and always being taught to feel worthless and like we had to take whatever we could get.

We settled on one job after another because we were told it was “smart” and secure even though they stifled our creativity and left us feeling miserable and lost.

This scarcity mindset taught us love is scarce and we could lose it at anytime so we better not do anything to “rock the boat.”

Things like:

  • Don’t speak up about your hurts and anger.
  • Don’t do or say anything that could be seen as critical or he’s going to leave.
  • Always be pleasant.
  • Don’t talk too much.
  • Don’t be needy.
  • Don’t speak up for yourself.
  • Squelch those emotions, you know you have too many of them.
  • Don’t do anything that could make you seem like a burden.
  • And for God’s sake, lose the fucking gut already, no man wants to look at that.
  • Always remember that whatever has been given can and likely will be taken away.
  • Don’t get too comfortable.

You know, this mindset keeps me up at night worrying about dying and never getting to live the life I want many years to live. Makes me so afraid we will die young and miss out on all life has to offer us. Makes me feel sick to my stomach at thinking about John moving on, finding someone else, and realizing we were never the woman he thought we were or that he ever really loved.

I get angry too, thinking about everything we want to do and how we never seem to have the money to do it because we can’t find or keep a job in a healthy, fun, creative environment. It makes me think of friends and family who are traveling where I want us to travel, doing jobs I want us to do, having money I wish we had, and comparing way too much of myself and life to everyone else.

Where there is a scarcity mindset, there is a focus on what we don’t have and a furious impatience to get it. To have control. To know what’s coming next, how to get it, when it’ll arrive, and how happy we’ll “finally” be when it arrives. I mean, isn’t that all the lie of every diet and/or exercise program we ever try? Every book or movie or TV show about finding “the one”? The sales pitch behind every beauty product and fashion line?

Scarcity mindset is the mindset that sells and makes billions of dollars in marketing and advertising for every possible thing you can think of from diets to religion to fashion to cars to homes and etc. “Let me tell you what you lack, how others perceive your lacking, and how buying this product will finally make you happy.”

Where there is scarcity, there is depression, war, greed, famine, sexual/physical/emotional violence, addiction, infidelity, genocide, treating people who don’t look like us as an “other” and dehumanizing them, anxiety, power-grabbing, fear-mongering, and depravity. Scarcity makes us take whatever we can get, however we can get it, no matter who – including ourselves – gets hurt.

Most of all, it takes us out of the present and robs us of joy, peace, love, and gratitude. It clouds our intuition and depletes the quality of our life. And quality always matters more important than quantity.

Amy, we are enough. Our life is happening as it is meant to, in the timeline it is meant to be on. There is no one set timeline for everyone. There is no need to rush.

We don’t have to worry about not having enough or being enough. There’s nothing we need to do or change about us to be worthy of love. Our very name, Amy, MEANS “beloved.”

If there is anything we can hold on to in our constantly evolving spiritual faith and what we learned in church growing up, it is to not allow ourselves to get wrapped up in the trappings of this world. Everything is temporary but it doesn’t mean it is scarce. Being weighed down by all of the stress that scarcity brings mean not being able to see the constant flow of joy, opportunities for new beginnings, love, and good still alive all around us.

Let’s slow down when we think, rest, eat, and dream. Our body is worth trusting and wants us to trust it. We are so privileged and lucky, Amy, we really have no idea. Let’s focus on our abundance so we can share it with others. When we know what we have, we know what we can give.

There is enough food to fill our belly and to give us pleasure and we don’t have to feel ashamed of what we eat. We can enjoy, savor, and be mindful of how and what we eat and why we are eating. We don’t need permission to feed our body when it is hungry. We don’t need to eat past fullness out of fear we will never get to eat that food again. We don’t have to restrict anymore.

We can move our body for the sheer joy of it and in appreciation of all it has done, is doing, and will do for us however many years we are meant to live.

Let’s not be inactive because the diet mentality is so deeply ingrained and twisted around exercise in our brain that it is hard to separate moving our body from the hope of weight loss, which is really just a hope of being seen as worthy of love and acceptance.

Our body is strong and still somewhat flexible (let’s try some yoga for this, okay?) and healthy, let’s focus on the abundance of this and move our body out of that mindset.

We aren’t our family. Their money issues aren’t ours. Their inability to have healthy relationships and marriages and live authentic lives don’t reflect on us. We are not doomed to repeat their mistakes. If anything, we have learned from them. How about we stop living from all the “what not to do’s” we learned from them and start focusing on what we have overcome, let go, forgive, and move on to the healing and the abundant future awaiting us?

Perfectionism is another scarcity mindset lie. It doesn’t exist, nor should it. We are free to make mistakes and learn and grow from them instead of feeling ashamed of them.

We were not born evil and in need of being made good and lovable by someone else. We were born in the image of God, who is all things love and goodness. Forget all of the fear-mongering, shaming, narcissistic religious bullshit shoved down our throat as children. That was all about control, another scarcity mindset tactic, and Amy, we are free. We are so fucking free to be exactly who we are.

Our marriage to John is beautiful because it is real. It is raw, vulnerable, and ever-growing, and it is authentic, transparent, and real. Don’t compare it to someone else’s marriage. We can’t see into the lives of others.

Let’s not rush the healing, depth, effective communication, and intimacy in our marriage. God willing, our marriage is growing into a mighty oak wrapped in decades of rings with unbreakable, replenishing roots that sway with the wind without snapping.

Right now, it is still a young, vulnerable sapling, only eight years old. It needs love, care, grace, understanding, forgiveness, nurture, trust, faith, rest, unity, sunshine, and patience. It needs time and it will need storms. Don’t be afraid of this.

Let’s not worry so much about money. We have enough to get by on. Let’s not be in such a rush to pay off debt, save money, buy a house, or whatever we see others doing that it’s not yet our time to do that we settle again for work that isn’t right for who we are, forces our self to stifle who we really are and what we really want, and lie awake at night in such unnecessary fear, anger, envy, resentment, and frustration. And remember, just because someone else has what we want doesn’t mean there’s now less of it left for us.

Amy, the way out of this scarcity mindset we’ve lived our whole life in is trust. Trust in ourselves. Trust in God or destiny or the Universe or whoever created us and is running things. Trust in our body to work and look as it was written in our DNA. Trust that we are always abundant in love, even if rejected, abandoned, and hurt by the ones we love. Trust that pain and suffering are a part of life and not to be feared because we also trust there is an abundance of good and joy in the world, no matter what our Twitter feeds tell us daily.

Slow down. Take deep breaths. Live in the present. Feel emotions and know none of them are wrong and all of them are valid and valued. We are not too much. We are not a burden. We matter. Our dreams and passions matter.

Our purpose is to live as our authentic self, love who we are exactly as we are, love others exactly as they are, and know our purpose will shift and change as our story weaves, waxes, and wanes through everywhere we’ve been and everywhere we are headed, no matter how long or short the story is.

Everything is happening as it is meant to. Listen to your gut. Listen to your heart. Take care of yourself. Be responsible for how you treat yourself and others and how your words and behavior affect others. And live in gratitude because really, we have been through hell, but we have never been defeated and we’ve truly never been unloved. There is nothing scarce in who we are, what life has given us, or what life still has left in store for us.

Love,

Me

Letters to Myself

Letters to Myself, #1 – Can We Be Friends?

Dear Me:

You know we’re together through it all, right? Like where you go, I go? Who you are, I am? Who you love, I love? You and I, you and I, you and I, we can conquer the world in loooove. Oops, got sidetracked at the thought of Michael Buble singing “You and I.”

Anyway. I know, it often feels like we are twins, two bodies developed from one egg, similar bodies and faces but totally different personalities. One of us is more adventurous, creative, silly, fun, outgoing, affectionate, optimistic, and joyful. The other of us is sullen, critical, brooding, mean, depressed, anxious, distrusting, cynical, and prefers to be left alone in a dark room and never touched. Both are pretty hilarious. I guess they at least have that in common.

And by God are they always at war with each other. The happier of us two says, “Go live life, it’s great, everything is so beautiful, let’s make the most of it, I love everything!” while the other creeps away, walking backwards with two middle fingers in the air, screaming, “Everything is fucked. Nothing is safe. How can you be so naive?!”

Happier us says, “Amy, you are beautiful, loved, and wonderful just as you are. You don’t have to be so afraid of being yourself.” Cynical us says, “You really need to lose some fucking weight, Amy. Why else do you think your body aches so much now? Why bother trying to live a life you’re not fit enough to live. Who could love you, really? Really?”

Ah, Cynical us, I see you’ve invited shame to this party. How cruel when you know our history. 

Look, I get why we don’t trust each other. Happier us is sick of being dragged down by Cynical us. Happier us is sick of cynical us’s shit. Cynical us is tired of comforting Happier us when Happier us gets its feelings hurt. Cynical us thinks it’s the adult and wishes Happier us would grow the fuck up because there’s too much shit going on that we need to be prepared for.

Neither of us trusts that the other is telling the truth about who we are.

Cynical us lost hope years ago when it saw there was none in the context of all the dysfunction of our family. All it wants is to not be like them. Not be like them. Not be like them. So it focuses on things like being smarter with money, moving to a bigger city, trying to have a healthier marriage, thinking, “God, if I could just do [this], everything would be perfect,” not realizing the set up for disappointment and inescapable failure this sets us up for. (By the way, totally okay to fail, just not okay to wallow in that failure or encapsulate that failure with shame.)

However, none of this touches the core of what we are clawing the steel walls to escape from: that deep, dark, aching, fucked up, vicious cycle of shame, hopelessness, and fear.

Happy us has been fighting to be heard since Day 1. Look how we find things to laugh and smile about even when there is so much to be sad and angry about around us. Look how much we love the ocean, clouds, pink sunsets, rainbows after thunderstorms, the view of and from mountaintops.

Think about how our heart swells with joy when we see puppies, babies, people treating us and each other with kindness, songs that lift us from our feet and having us jumping all around, when we play with children and forget how “grown up” we’re supposed to be.

And writing, oh my god, while Cynical us has definitely inspired more words, it has also, probably without meaning to, opened us up to our pain and helped us empathize and view the perspectives of others. We make a really good first-person perspective writing team. Hey! Maybe we should write a book together! Huh? Huh? Whaddya think?

I know it hurts to get excited about something then let down. I know it feels like we are forever waiting for whatever is meant to happen to us. I know it is easy to think we are what we do. And sometimes, we are what we do. But doing is not the entirety of our being or self-worth. We are worthy just by being…alive, happy, sad, cynical, optimistic, however we show up day to day.

And that life that we keep waiting to happen for us? It’s happening right now, guys! It’s been going on THIS ENTIRE TIME. Mind blowing, I know. Of course, we think about that too, but get so impatient. Oh and there’s also the whole thing where we’re going to die one day but we don’t know when and oh my god, what if I don’t get to do all the things I want to do? That loves to keep us awake in the middle of the night, doesn’t it? We can collectively agree we hate it when we can’t control everything even though we know being in control takes the fun out of life, right?

Okay, Cynical us, maybe this is your realm. Maybe knock it off a little bit?

Cynical us, did you know Happier us feels scared too? Joy feels so good that it is frightening. It is fleeting, yes, but what we don’t understand is that one joy moves out so another can move in.

Joy is an ever-rushing current with an infinite number of stops along the way. We hold so tightly to one joy, one memory, and squeeze our eyes shut til we see stars behind our eyelids because we think if we let go, we’ll never feel joy again. Cynical us, I think you see this happening and you love Happier us so much that you step in to protect us, but it’s okay. You can both open your eyes and arms, let that past joy go, and look together for the next moment, which should be here any second.

Happier us, all Cynical us wants is to be loved, safe, and to be seen as good enough. You have both been taught that to be vulnerable is to be weak, that vulnerability is to be avoided at all costs. You have been through so much, and what you don’t realize is that you’ve had each other this whole time. You’ve worked as a team through it all.

The divide is not as large as it seems and guys, it is most definitely NOT your fault. Not your fault, not your fault, not your fault. You did not do this to each other. This divide was dumped on you by people who had their own inner divisions and pain dumped on them. HOWEVER…it is your responsibility to try your hardest not to dump your inner turmoil on anyone else. We are meant to stop this intergenerational trauma, which is why I’m writing all of this in the first place. It is really important we find a way to get along.

Happier us sees being openly joyous as being vulnerable – naive, childish, silly – so it allows Cynical us to step forward with its complaining, sarcasm, bitterness, and resentment. That seems to speak the language of the media and of most of the so-called “adults” around us and acts as a protective shield. The only thing is, that shield doesn’t just protect us from painful emotions, but every emotion. There’s no filter. 

Cynicism, rage, shame, bitterness, and fear have been the water around us for a very long time, and we, with our empathetic, sensitive spongey nature and need for love and acceptance, have soaked it all up until we are so swollen and dripping with it.

Life is hard enough as it is. Division outside of us will destroy us if there remains division within us.

Cynical us, keep protecting us as you do, as what you do keeps us alive. I appreciate that. I know you are doing what you’ve always done, survive in whatever way possible. There is nothing wrong with you, nothing to be ashamed of. (Ha, I sound like Happier us and can feel you side-eyeing the fuck out of me. Sorry. I promise I’m not taking sides here.)

All I am saying here is that you can relax. We don’t live in that dysfunctional family home anymore. There’s no violence, abuse, gaslighting, or negligence going on anymore.

I know you must be sweltering under all of that armor you’ve layered on throughout the years, so take some of it off.

You had to grow up so quickly. You never really got to be a child. I know you resent Happier us sometimes because it is so child-like, bright, sunny, light, and free, but I know how much you want to protect that joy too. I see you. I’m not going to ask you to be who you are not because you are needed and loved just as you are. Like I said, you’ve kept me alive, you’ve gotten me through a lot of shit. I am only asking that you don’t close yourself completely off and that maybe you tell shame to fuck off, we’ve had enough for a lifetime, it’s no longer welcome here.

Happier us, thank you for keeping the child in us alive. Keep looking for the rainbows after storms. Don’t be so afraid to sing out loud when a song comes on that you love or it just gets stuck in your head. You have the most infectious, deep belly laugh and you always find stuff to laugh about. Keep making up goofy songs about your dogs and picking them up and dancing around the house with them. Don’t stop unabashedly loving “The Little Mermaid” or other Disney princess movies. Be the little girl you never got to be.

Bake cookies because you love to bake cookies – quit worrying about sugar being “the devil” and don’t let diet culture take you away from something you love to do. Enjoy your ice cream and don’t let guilt or shame about your body keep you from savoring it.

Wear all the floral prints you want. Buy the skirts and dresses that twirl when you spin in a circle and twirl your heart out.

Who cares if no one else gets as excited when the thunder roars as you do?

Those pretty flowers you notice on your walks are there for you to notice and see beauty in them. And that eternal need to see and hear the ocean? Don’t laugh it off or ignore it. When you need to see the ocean, go see the fucking ocean.

Ride your bike, dance, hike, go for walks or jogs, swim, and forget you ever heard anything about calories burned or weight loss or any of that bullshit that tries to take the joy of just moving your body for the joy of it away from you. There’s nothing wrong with simply enjoying your body and your life, and there’s absolutely nothing you need to be or do to “earn” or “deserve” that joy.

Cynical us tries to shut you down so much, I know, but it is trying to protect you because all it was taught is that there is nothing in this world but fear and shame. When you’re vulnerable, it feels vulnerable too. I’m not saying it is healthy, but it has always done its best with what it knows, as have you. And this is not me shaming or bashing the Cynical us, but showing I understand where it is coming from and I feel so much compassion for it.

So, friends? Can we really try being this? I’m not asking for perfect harmony, that doesn’t exist. It’s okay if we fight, but can we do it more productively? Can we start the work of understanding each other better and empathizing with each other? We are all equal here. We all serve a purpose. We can protect each other without demoralizing one another.

Can we work together to heal all of the hurt, anger, shame, criticism, betrayal, abandonment, rejection, negligence, and abuse we’ve been through together. Can we try to thrive now and not just survive? Be okay with each other as we are? Not argue so destructively and angle to continue the cycle of abuse we experienced at the hands or words of others? Try to love each other even if we don’t always like each other? (And understand it is okay if we don’t always like each other as long as we respect one another?)

Can we have peace? Compassion? Forgive each other? This body we share is exhausted. It is so worn down from this war we’ve been waging throughout our life together. My nerves are raw. My bones ache. My spirit is ragged. Please, I beg, can’t we find a way to get along?

I hope this letter has brought some perspective to this division inside of us. I surrender, white flag and all, and await your response in the hopes you both will come to an agreement on the best way to move forward…together. I really do love you, I hope you know that, just as you are.

Love,

Me

Beautiful You, Showing Up

No Longer 14

Picture1

“How to heal the inner child” is a topic I’ve been coming across a lot lately. I mentioned The Holistic Psychologist’s Inner Child Meditation a few posts back and how hard it was for me to visualize being back at June, Lib, and Brophy’s (maternal grandmother and great-grandparents) house, adult me holding the hand of the child version of me, and telling her she is loved, wanted, and safe.

I read something else recently that said something along the lines of, “When something happens to you and you react to it, how old do you feel in that moment?” I’ve also read that often we stop emotionally/mentally growing at the age where we first experienced trauma or when we were abruptly expected to become an adult.

Yesterday, I searched all of my files and even read old LiveJournal entries, desperately trying to find a poem I wrote as a teenager, then rewrote for a poetry writing class in college called “The 14-Year-Old Mom to My 39-Year-Old Mother.” (It might not have been called exactly that, but it’s what my memory says it was entitled.)

In this poem, I wrote about how, at 14, I was suddenly expected to stop being a teenager and start being a mother because my mother couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t just suddenly feel responsible for my brothers, especially Ben and Caleb who were respectively 7 and 5 at the time, but also for my mother. She and I would get into these horrendous, often physical, fights and she would tear me to shreds and burn me to the ground, and then an hour or so later, she’d crawl into bed with me, hold me, and cry, saying she was a horrible mother over and over again. She didn’t have anyone to talk to. She didn’t have anyone to lean on. She had no friends she could confide in. My dad was no longer there for her to blame for everything.

So I was suddenly supposed to be every one of those things for her. At 14 years old.

John and I were up late talking Monday night, and I asked him what he was like in high school. Did he have hobbies? Did he read comic books? What did he dress like? What did he do for fun?

He said he couldn’t really remember but said he figured he’s not that much different now than at 15 or 16, that most people’s identities are forged in their teen years and they don’t really change.

I feel like, as much as I joke around, I am so serious deep down as a person because I felt forced to be serious as a teenager. I still feel like such a child. I joked to John that I’m always looking for the “adultier adult.”

I felt so hopelessly imprisoned growing up.

My teen years were spent under a crushing weight of condemnation, abandonment, judgment, shaming, belittlement, violence, dysfunction, and abuse. I was never good enough. Always too fat. Not pretty enough. A disappointment. Afraid to make mistakes. Always so fucking angry, as I absorbed all of the emotions around me, not knowing that labels like “empath” or “highly sensitive person” existed, or that both labels described me. I was basically a sponge at the bottom of a toxic waste runoff pond. And I too often spewed out what was poured into me.

I felt so unloved and unlovable. Like a burden. Too emotional. Too much. I was so wounded and sought comfort in things and people who couldn’t really give me the attention, affirmation, and affection that I needed, no matter how much they loved me because they were so wounded and seeking the same.

When I think about my life as a teenager, it was always with thoughts of how to escape. I read everything I could get my hands on, about like I do now. Lost myself in fiction, music, and movies. I had some fun, typical American teenage girl times too, obsessed with the Backstreet Boys, going to concerts and high school football games when my dad finally let me my senior year of high school. All I thought about was how much I wanted to leave, but I also felt so compelled to stay because of Ben and Caleb.

I did not know what to do with my freedom when I got to Mobile and I was three hours away from home. My freedom didn’t feel free because I was so worried about everyone at home and felt guilty that I wasn’t there, especially for Ben and Caleb.

I also did not know what to do without the constant, daily trauma going on around me. I did not how to loosen up. I didn’t know how to take care of myself. I didn’t know what to do with the quiet.

When John and I talked about all of that, I told him how the only reason I would go back to my teen years is if it meant I got to do what other teenagers did – have boyfriends, go to prom and other dances, make out in the backseat, hang out with friends at the mall, just be carefree. Adam and, even more so, Ben got to do that. Ben is the sibling most like me, in both looks and personality, but I see so much of who I feel like I will never be in all that I’ve watched him do, both horribly stupid and incredibly amazing. Maybe having me to do all of the worrying for him growing up gave him the freedom not to worry so much and just live his life.

The stories I’ve told myself since age 14 are stories where I’m a victim and a martyr, all laced in fear and pleas for someone to finally tell me I am enough just as I am. I’ve regaled myself with tales of who I will be once I’m thin, get married, get out of debt, move to some new town, feeling so much hope and excitement for that perfect person I will be if I just put my head down and keep pushing myself, and I’ve beaten myself up when none of those things make me happy or my life what I want it to be. Someday I will be loved, worth loving has turned into that mirage of an oasis in the desert in this quest. The finish line that keeps getting moved further away.

I don’t feel capable of the hard conversations, the really vulnerable and deep talks that lay me wide open for all kinds of destruction and pain.

I still feel very ashamed about sex, my sexuality, and my body as a sexual being. When things get awkward and uncomfortable, I either shut down or make jokes or get angry and accusing. My brain has me convinced that everyone my age has got sex figured out while I’m the one still fumbling in the dark and awkward as fuck because they got started long before I did. There are so many times where I wish I’d had sex way sooner and with more people but I didn’t because of growing up in a purity culture and being shamed for being sexually curious from an early age.

Now in my mid-30s, I’m floundering, not knowing what to do next, job-wise while almost everyone else I know is settled into a steady career like I was in my mid-20s. I’m currently procrastinating in trying to find another job because I’m so afraid of winding up in another toxic and boring office job because I don’t trust myself not to settle for whoever wants to hire me.

Last week, when I saw someone mentioning healing the “inner teenager” instead of just the inner child, I thought, This is where I’m at, this is how old I feel emotionally and mentally, this is how old my feelings of maturity and responsibility are.

This is the age range in me that needs healing, grace, and accountability. This is where I need to tell myself it is okay to be exactly who and where I am. Where I remind myself there is no real timeline in life, birth and death are the only real certainties, and no one of any age has it all figured out, that “it all” looks completely different for everyone. Where I start asking myself those questions like, “What would you do if you could do anything?” and I answer from me and not from my expectations of the perceptions of those around me. This is the version of me that needs to be told, “You are safe, you are loved, you are wanted, you are not too much.”

I knew 10 years ago that there was more to my life than spending it in Alabama, caught up in my family’s drama and trauma, taking care of everyone else but myself, and I made the decision to move to Georgia, still the best decision I’ve made thus far. And while I’ve distanced myself from it all physically, I am still distancing myself from it emotionally. Learning that I what I experienced was actually trauma. That I do have some PTSD from being in family dysfunction I couldn’t escape from, with people who couldn’t address the reality of that dysfunction and trauma and just accepted it as normal. Understanding that I am an adult, I’m not 14, and I am allowed to be myself, exactly however that means. That my feelings and voice matter. That I have the power and privilege and responsibility of my present and future, and even more so, I don’t have to figure out my entire life right now, and, goddamnit, I am allowed to make some fucking mistakes. 

know these things, but I still feel caught up in all of those old fears of judgment, condemnation, shame, abandonment, and rejection. There is shit I no longer have to put up with, but I still hold onto it anyway.

But…

I’m allowed to have boundaries now, and I am learning what they are, how to establish them, and how to maintain them. I no longer have to stay in any situations or dysfunction that hurt me. I am always, from here on out, free to let go, walk away, and move on to better, healthier habits, mindsets, situations, and relationships. 

All of this actually really just hit me while writing this post.

I want 14-year-old Amy to know I love her, I’m proud of her, and I am the strong, empathetic, kind, hilarious, thoughtful, and self-aware person I am now because of her. That she doesn’t have to worry about what will happen to everyone around her if she’s not there to pick up the pieces constantly. That everything has turned out pretty well. She can relax and play.

And I think she’d tell me, You don’t have to be sad or angry for me anymore. You don’t have to feel bad for me. You don’t need to be my mother or anyone else’s anymore either. You can let go and have a life of your own. 

And by the way, 36-year-old me, YOU can now relax and play. 

 

Beautiful You, Showing Up

Day 23 – Beautiful You – Realize That You Are What You Pay Attention to

Today: In your Beautiful You journal, reflect on what you pay attention to, what you give priority, and what you put your energy into on any given day. If we are what we pay attention to, are you comfortable with this reflection of you? If not, how can you adjust to more accurately reflect who you are at your core?

Eight years ago today, John and I met when he joined his sister and I on a trip to Tybee Island, Georgia for the day, and our relationship immediately began. Tomorrow is our fourth wedding anniversary.

Eight years feels both like a long time and barely a blip. Our relationship is as old as a third grader, and we both can act like third graders at times. And man, year 8 has been a fucking doozy.

As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I struggle a lot with codependency that stemmed from my dysfunctional family and dysfunctional relationship with my mom growing up. I am a fixer. I equate being able to help with being lovable. I feel like if I can’t do something, I am worthless. This has really reared its ugly head in the past 3 years with my bouts of unemployment while John works full-time.

I also struggle with boundaries because I was not allowed to have them growing up or they were completely disregarded and stepped over, and this has caused me to stew inwardly on a lot of ways I’ve allowed John to treat me without saying anything and then blowing up at him during a minor disagreement over something unrelated or that is barely related.

I’ve spent a long time giving my energy to making others happy in the hopes that they will love me and won’t reject or abandon me. Making myself responsible for every conflict, telling myself my needs, desires, boundaries, and emotions are all too much. Living in fear of my own voice and the light inside of me that threaten to burn me up from the inside out if I choose to continue to ignore them. Feeling inadequate and useless. Feeling stuck in all of my struggles with my body image, debt, jobs, and oftentimes, my marriage.

John is very different from me in a lot of ways, but he is also a mirror for me, and it’s often a mirror that highlights everything I either hate myself for or do everything I can to ignore. Things like settling for whatever I can get, being afraid of criticism, my anger, shame, fear, and unwillingness to really face my emotions and not just push through them with the power of logic and rationalization.

I also spend a lot of time projecting my own perfectionistic tendencies on him, and compare our marriage to others that I only get glimpses into here and there but still convince myself they’re better.

I expend too much energy worrying about what others think. I tend to tell my friends only the bad stuff after a fight and then when they ask if I’m sure I want to stay married to him and I say yes, I feel like they’re disappointed in me or feel like how I felt towards my mom when she wouldn’t leave my dad or her second ex, even though those marriages were extremely dysfunctional and abusive. And then I feel like I have to rationalize and justify and honestly, it is exhausting worrying about what others think of my marriage, especially when I spend more time worrying about that than the marriage itself.

When I’m angry at John, when I feel like he throws all of the responsibility on me in our relationship, when I feel like he doesn’t give a shit about me, when I feel like I’m just a warm body to sleep next to, I am consumed with fear and darkness. The fear is that I married my dad. I’m repeating my mom’s mistakes. I’m repeating their marriage. I feel like I’m suffocating and I need to escape as fast as I can. I convince myself he is the one responsible for when our marriage feels shitty. Everything becomes cloudy and dark, and I can’t focus or concentrate. I shut myself off to everything and everyone and wish I could just cease to exist because being alive hurts too much.

It’s been a dark and stormy past few months, let me tell you.

But…

But thinking that way shuts out all of the light. The laughing together in bed at night on the weekends when he’s off. Him thanking me for keeping the dishes washed and taking the dogs out. How good it feels when we get in bed and he pulls me to him and I rest my chin in the crook of his neck and he feels so warm, soft, and safe. That he kisses me goodbye and tells me he loves me every time he leaves and I do the same, and this is very important to both of us. When he and I talk in bed, in the dark, in the middle of the night about stuff going through our heads. How he’s taking on paying for our living expenses so that I have the money to pay towards my debt and car payment while I try to find another job. That he listens to me even if he doesn’t always know how to respond. Our walks together where we talk about a lot of random stuff but also try to work out our future. That he is willing to work on things with me even when they are out of his comfort zone.

When I am so overwhelmed with fear, I forget that I have a person who wants to listen to me, wants me to talk to him, wants to know me, has told me many times that I am not too much or a burden for him. That is the past chattering so loudly in my ear that it drowns out the present.

I am not happy with this reflection of me that is so consumed with fear and the feeling that I’m lost and have no direction and no control. Trying to control everything has gotten me nowhere but more cynical and more closed off. It has not lead to a happy, fulfilling life, and it is not allowing me to accept myself or John and relax and enjoy our marriage and take the bumps as they come. It is not allowing me to use my voice or talents to contribute to a better world or happier me.

It is mercilessly killing me and turning my marriage and me into everything I’ve been so afraid of them becoming.

This is such a hard ship to veer off its current course, but there’s an iceberg dead ahead and the ship will sink. I’ve always been good at acknowledging my emotions – or at least that I am having them – but I’ve never been good at sitting with them. Figuring out where I feel them. Validating them. You know, feeling them. Learning how to soothe myself.

Instead, I’ve tried to chase them off by berating myself for having them in the first place, blaming them on someone else, or numbing them with food, social media, self-improvement books, sleep, or spending money I don’t have. This has led to me being dull, broke, and feeling even more like shit about myself and my body.

I have spent the past couple of weeks really acknowledging my codependency issues, behaviors I adapted into years ago to endure trauma that I no longer need to protect myself from, and understanding my deep need for boundaries. I’ve been following The Holistic Psychologist on Instagram and YouTube and finally, after weeks of procrastinating, I started her Future Self Journaling.

I found the Emotional Needs Questionnaire that our marriage counselor gave us three years ago to complete at the end of our time with her, gave John his copy today, told him to fill it out, filled mine out, and once he’s done with his, we will switch and go over what we both need in our marriage.

I don’t want the house John and I live in to be a broken one like I grew up in, very cold and tense, where the only emotion expressed is anger. I don’t want the house I live in – in my mind, body, and spirit – to be so closed off, distrusting, fearful, and cynical either. (Basically, I don’t want to be my dad.) I can’t control everything, I know, but I can choose how to handle life as it comes to me.

And I want to see the good. I want to feel okay with seeing the good as it comes and stop worrying when it will be over and the bad will return. To live in the present. To understand I am good and loved – things I was not taught in the version of Christianity I was raised in – just as I am. And that John is too. That we are both doing the best we can with what we have. That that is enough, it is okay.

I came from a very negative environment growing up, and I am done allowing it to define my thoughts and define me now. It was what I knew and I know better now. This is what I will be paying more attention to from now on.

Beautiful You, Showing Up

Day 17 – Beautiful You – Replace What You Heard

I have spent nearly all of my life apologizing for who I am.

For being fat.

Being emotional.

Not making perfect grades.

Not making enough money.

Not being enough, whether that’s pretty, smart, funny, patient, or faithful to my Christian upbringing.

Not speaking up for myself. Not putting my needs first. Not doing the things I want to do but am afraid to do.

In response to being told I’m egocentric, selfish, or a cold-hearted bitch when I stand up for myself.

Being blamed for another person’s emotions when I speak up for myself.

Being blamed for the conflict in the relationship because I speak up for myself.

Where do those voices come from?

From my childhood – my parents, siblings, grandmother, great-grandparents – and from friends, both current and former, and my husband. 

But they all sound like my voice in my head after all of these years of hearing them. And they all tell me I’m not enough, doing enough, or being enough. That I’m not living up to my potential or focusing on myself (or I’m focusing too much on myself) and I am wasting my life. And those are the voices I hear when I am hit with the panicked thought, What if I die in my sleep tonight? at 3a.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ve said over and over and over again from about the time I could talk. I’m sorry, Mama, I don’t know why it is so hard for me to behave myself, I wrote in a letter at about 7 or 8 years old, a letter my mom still has to this day but does not have any of the short stories I wrote and gave to her as gifts. 

I’ve blamed it on the trauma and dysfunction I experienced growing up. I’m sorry I’m so broken, I’ve cried. I’m sorry I’m such a burden. I’m sorry I’m too much and too emotional. I’m sorry you don’t want me.

I’ve mentally destroyed my body a million times, taking on others’ voices who called me disgusting, gross, and fat like it’s the most vile thing a person can be. I’m sorry my belly is so big. I’m sorry I don’t look like other women. I’m sorry I don’t have big boobs and a big butt and itty bitty waist. I’m sorry this is what you have to look at during sex or anytime I’m naked. You deserve a better body to touch and view. My stupid body and fucked up hormones, stupid PCOS, stupid hypothyroidism, stupid endometriosis. My body is ruined and it’s my fault, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I can’t find a job I love that pays well and that I can stay at, I’ve said to John several times over the past 3 years. I keep winding up with these hostile bosses who make an easy, sometimes even enjoyable job, torturous. Maybe it’s my fault, maybe I’m doing something wrong, I am the common denominator here. I’m sorry I don’t have the fortitude to withstand their behavior towards me and continue working so I’m not a financial burden on you. I’m sorry my expectations for a job I want to stay at are too high. I’m sorry that staying at a job I hate for the majority of the rest of my life feels like a long, slow, brutal death. 

I’m sorry I’m so overdramatic and need so much, I’ve said. I’m sorry I can’t seem to let some things go. I’m sorry I want affection and affirmation so much. It’s because I didn’t get either growing up. I’m sorry I lean on you for validation. I should know better. I’m sorry I want you to tell me you think I am beautiful and you are so lucky to have me and that I keep telling you that my needs aren’t being met. I’m sorry, once again, things were going so well, and I fucked them up with my feelings.

Last night, in discussion with John after a horrible fight, I asked him if he ever feels like he’s repeating his mistakes from his previous marriage. After a pause, he said no. I asked, kind of incredulously, “Do you even know what your mistakes were then?”

He responded, “I won’t apologize for being myself.”

I still can’t decide if that is the arrogance, egocentricity, and selfishness I’ve always been afraid of being accused of possessing or if it’s self-assuredness. I am always apologizing for myself because I never want to see like I’m beyond empathy or thoughtfulness of those around me, all at the expense of the lack of empathy and thoughtfulness towards myself.

I don’t think the opposite of constantly apologizing for myself is a cold-hearted “I refuse to acknowledge how my behavior affects others,” but an acceptance that this is who I am, I cannot nor need to be perfect, my voice, feelings, and needs matter, and I can have compassion, love, empathy, and kindness towards myself while also having those characteristics for others. The key part is having them for myself first so that I have a larger capacity for them with others.

Those voices from my childhood through now that I’ve adopted as my own came and come from hurt people, people who have tried to stop their own pain through their treatment of me (but who only inflicted more pain on me), people who see a reflection of their insecurities and pain in me and react to that instead of me personally. The words that came from those voices were about them, not me.

To re-parent myself is to observe my thoughts, which seem to flutter in a roaring cacaphony of billions of butterflies inside of my head. To catch them as they come and ask myself, Where did this come from? Maybe it’s even like a mental version of Marie Kondo’s Tidying Up: “Does this thought serve me?” If not, thank it and let it go; if so, hold on to it, listen to it, and see where it takes me.

In re-parenting myself, it is time to stop apologizing for being a human being with needs, emotions, and desires. To stop apologizing for “falling short,” whatever standards I’ve been held against or that I’ve held myself against.

The only apology needed is to myself, Amy, I am so sorry I’ve taken others’ hurts and made them my own.

To replace those words those hurt voices said and say to myself:

I am enough. My body is good as it is, no matter what. My dreams are worth aspiring to. My needs are worth being met. My voice is worth being heard. I am not too emotional – I am attuned with my emotions and they are valid. It is okay for me to keep searching and exploring and pushing through my fears and discomfort. 

I don’t know who said it, maybe Anne Lamott or Elizabeth Gilbert, but I don’t want to end my life looking like it was barely lived. I want to end it completely used up, my hair on fire, heart completely worn out, ready for whatever is next. 

I will apologize when my hurts hurt someone else, but I will stop apologizing for who I am and what I do when it pertains to becoming and being the person I was put on the Earth to be.


Today: Consider the negative messages about yourself that are in your head and ask yourself, “Is this my voice or someone else’s?”

Says [Dr. Amy Combs, clinical psychologist and the director of the Charlotte Center for Balanced Living], “…One of the first things we can do is to ask these questions of ourselves: Whose voice is it? Where did it come from? Why does it make sense for me to talk to myself like that?

If this negative message was shared with you at a younger age, how would you re-parent yourself? What do you think your friend was missing in her life that made her say that? Do you think this is really what your brother thought, or was it how he thought he could get you the most upset? What was the goal?”

Whatever you may have been told, replace it right now with what you wish you had heard.

Beautiful You, Showing Up

Day 16 – Beautiful You – Realize Everything is Just Information

Have you ever thought about how the way we describe ourselves, even to ourselves, affects how we feel about and perceive ourselves?

One way I’ve been thinking about this lately is when we use “I am…” versus “I feel…” and “I have…”

One way attaches a feeling, judgment, and even a diagnosis to encompass our identity which almost sets up a permanence in our self-perception and maybe how others perceive us. For example, saying, “I’m so dumb” when we make a mistake or “I’m a worrier” when we struggle with anxiety.

Another way is a description and observation. It could describe a chronic, permanent condition in your life, but if you say, for example, “I feel depressed” or “I have diabetes,” it feels more like we are describing just a small part of the wholeness of ourselves, like, “I have blue eyes and brown hair.” It solely describes us without trying to tell our whole story. In regards to chronic health issues or disabilities, it can put a responsibility on us that we don’t deserve and don’t need to bear beyond managing them with self-care.

This isn’t a “you aren’t fat, you have fat” type of thing or me trying to politicize how we describe ourselves. I AM tall. I AM fat. I AM white. I AM a cis-het woman. But that’s not my whole story. I have chronic physical and mental health issues, but they don’t identify me, just name how my body responds to my DNA and environment. I have privileges, but they don’t define me and they aren’t something to feel ashamed of. My identity is not wholly wrapped up in nature or nurture. You get what I’m saying, I hope.

It is about expanding, not diminishing, ourselves. Not narrowing ourselves down to a few words. Seeing what happens to us and how we perceive it is important. Attaching our identities to temporary experiences like making a mistake or permanent conditions like chronic mental or physical health or something traumatic that happened to us growing up limits us and can invoke unnecessary shame. Narrows our story.

It is totally okay to acknowledge the experiences we’ve had. To share what we feel and experience. I’m not trying to diminish that or silence anyone. Telling others what we feel, have, deal with, and are healing from is part of the human experience. All of our feelings and perceptions are valid and happen for a reason.

A few weeks ago, on my way home from a weekend at my mom’s, I decided to skip the 30 seconds it would take for my apartment complex’s entrance gate to open and go through the exit gate. Chewy, my dog, had to pee and had whined about it for 50 miles, it was 12:30a, and I was tired. All I could think about was “I hope no one tries to come out as I go in.” It was as I pulled over the tire strips that I realized what I’d done and why you don’t enter that exit gate.

“Oh, fuuuuck” came out of my mouth as air began gushing out of my front left tire. I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten, the first time in the nearly two years we’ve lived here. How could I be so stupid? I chastised myself.

But I had been thinking about the topic Rosie wrote about in the prompt at the. Bottom of this post, so when I walked into the house with Chewy, I looked at John and said, “I did something really stupid and I need your help.”

Calling running over the spike “stupid” is still a little shame-inducing, but separating my actions and my identity in the moment helped me realize it was a temporary experience, a mistake and lesson learned. I was tired and ready to get Chewy and me out of the car and I made a mistake. Shit happens, ya know? And thankfully John is a kind and compassionate husband. He and I immediately started making jokes about what happened while he put the spare on, and the next day, he took my car to Walmart and bought me a new tire. Crisis averted, gratefulness and relief felt, lesson learned.

It is so easy to allow shame, trauma, health issues, and abuse to reduce who we are and cloud our judgment and perception of ourselves. We can’t control a whole lot in life (but I struggle with control issues; I’m not a “control freak”), but we can decide how to perceive ourselves and how to live our lives.

One exception (but not the only one) in this I am vs. I have/feel/do idea I’m writing about here is when we want to label ourselves by things we do but feel like we can’t because we haven’t won public accolade for it. If you write, you’re a writer even if you never get your words published. If you sing, you’re a singer even if you never sing outside of your shower. Dancer, if you dance. Hiker, if you hike. Runner, if you run. This is where participation awards totally count. If you want it and do it – or sometimes not do it because creativity is vulnerable even with us as our only audience – you are it.

This is all just a little newborn idea in my head so I’d love to hear what others think. I like the idea of holding thoughts at an arm’s length and observing them, not immediately absorbing them. Being curious about them. Curiosity is how we keep ourselves open to what life has to offer and helps us expand and grow. Shame and judgment are the opposites of curiosity, creativity, and vulnerability.

Like Brené Brown says, while paraphrasing Teddy Roosevelt’s grand speech, if you are brave with your life, if you live in the arena, you are going to get your ass kicked.

Don’t be an extra foot in your ribs and face in that arena. Use those feelings instead to pull yourself back up to persevere. There’s a lot of beautiful life to be lived in between those ass kickings.


Today: I want you to continue to shift your energy away from judgment to curiosity. When you feel inclined to judge yourself, shift your words. No longer condemn your choices or reality. Instead, I want you to gently ask, what information is this experience giving me? And prepare yourself to powerfully move forward with that information as a guide.

Beautiful You

Day 15 – Beautiful You – Consider What Self-Acceptance Can Add to Your Life

Last night, John and I went to the Atlanta Braves’ home opener against the Chicago Cubs, our first real date night in a long time. This game was special because of our ties to both cities.

We both grew up Atlanta Braves fans – me in Alabama, him in Georgia. Three years ago, we moved to Chicago for his then-job with American Airlines at O’Hare Airport. While in Chicago, I worked in concessions at Wrigley Field and got to watch the Cubs go to and win their first World Series in 108 years. Some say I broke the long-standing curse, haha. Because of this, I have such a special place in my heart for the Cubs, but I am also a Braves fan. You can see where it might get tricky.

Either way, John and I decided that he would come to my job and we would walk to SunTrust Park because it’s only about 4 miles away. Four miles is nothing for us. We’ve walked from Evanston, IL to Chicago, IL before, about a half-marathon in itself.

We’ve all heard our parents lament about having to walk “uphill, both ways, in the snow, barefooted” before, right?

Well, it wasn’t snowing last night and thank goodness I had on a comfortable pair of shoes, but damn.

Walking from Powers Ferry Road to Windy Ridge Parkway to SunTrust Park is literally uphill both ways.

My body was not prepared for this.

When we got to the biggest hill near the stadium, John bounced ahead of me like the little unlimited stamina bunny he always is when it comes to anything steep, and behind him, I gasped for air and forced myself to think of anything else to distract myself from the burning in my thigh and calf muscles. He turned around and asked if I was going to make it. All I could do was nod and grunt.

There were moments I felt embarrassed because the thoughts rolling through my head were, oh my god, I am so out of shape / I have got to lose weight / I am holding John back / this must be so embarrassing for him.

But then I had this flashback of myself when I was this size before, trying to walk a half mile down a mostly flat street and having to stop because my legs and chest hurt too horribly to go any further and here I was, pushing myself up one huge hill after another. I only stopped when I had to, like with red lights. I made it up to that goddamn stadium without stopping to catch my breath.

I am really fucking strong.

That was the voice that emerged from them all. I mean, think about it. John only carried 150 pounds up those hills, I carried around 265 pounds. A whole 115 pounds more. How strong do my legs, lungs, and heart have to be to accomplish such a feat? If John wasn’t impressed, I sure as hell was when I thought about it once we arrived at the stadium.

I gasped for breath just as much fifty pounds lighter too, but this time I had more to carry.

And then we did it again on the way back from the stadium and even he was groaning and complaining of his legs and feet hurting.

I walked over 10 miles yesterday, mostly up some extremely steep hills.

It was so uncomfortable, but it was yet more proof that my body can do and does incredible things, and this is so much of what I am trying to focus on when my anxiety over my body size and shape tries to creep in.


Today: In your “Beautiful You” journal, consider what self-acceptance would give you if you decided to embrace the practice in your life. How would your life be different? In what ways do you need to see the world as more abundant? How do you begin today?

I think if I embraced the way I saw myself last night, with more admiration or even just acknowledgement, so much of my anxiety over my body, food, and how others perceive me would melt away. I have struggled to trust myself – body and mind – my whole life and have so heavily depended on the guidance of and validation from others, people who can only talk to me via their own experiences and knowledge of themselves. I have sought diet and nutrition advice from doctors, relationship advice from my friends and books, financial advice from friends and books and the internet, and even when everything in me is screaming to run the other way or is so aggravated with myself for allowing others to try to run my life, I have felt like they know something that I don’t and their perspective is more valid than my own.

If I lived in my body with more acceptance and grace, my life and everything in it would feel more like it was mine, like it belonged to me, and with that authority over it, I would feel more freedom to live like I want to live.

I have lived with such a sense of scarcity around love, affection, acceptance, and personal freedom my whole life. They have all felt like they need to be earned with some sort of grand performance of perfection. And if someone else is getting it, there is less to go around for me. It has gotten me caught up in comparing myself with others and feeling like shit because I can’t seem to measure up.

If I could shift to a sense of abundance and realize all of those things are around me and in me, I feel like the sense of competition would simmer down because there would be nothing to compete or fight over. (Of course, I also understand the privileges I have too, in that scarcity is a real thing for far too many people in this world.)

Walking out of the stadium last night with John’s fingers interlaced with mine, it hit me how much love is right here for me in my own life. I’m not alone. I’m not invisible. Instead, I have been blinded to it because of the fear, shame, and insecurities I’ve allowed to create my perspective on everything.

I am strong because my body can do great things, but I am also strong because my body and who I am have overcome amazingly hard things to get me here. Life doesn’t have to be all or nothing. My acceptance of myself doesn’t either. There’s no perfect way to do anything, just the way I was meant to do it, mistakes and all.