The most beautiful thing is a woman returning to herself.
I started out my birthday last week by plucking out my hairs. But not my wise ones.
I had awoken in bed with some anxiety as I sometimes do, but then it faded. I remembered to be silly and loving more than take myself too seriously.
By 6:15 a.m. I felt compassion for myself as a parent loves a child, as a person can grow to love herself…
It's not entirely strange that this journey of self-compassion and love I’ve been on started when someone I loved stopped loving me. From this space I’m in now, I can only look back at this separation as one of life’s bittersweet gifts — no longer feeling compromised and “not myself” in relationship with this person, I was able to (over time) return to who I am. And now with so much greater strength, and so much deeper love for myself that I wouldn’t change a thing about the past.
I am here now. And here is good.
What does it mean, though, to return to oneself? To find or “re-find” again one’s presence and purpose?
I feel a fire and a glow in me.
I feel a light has returned that I want to share with others.
I feel balanced and aligned and strong.
I feel that even though I’m often a very emotional person, I know now how to take care of myself and nurture myself through difficult times.
I value myself and am learning my worth.
I value my time.
I am more discerning.
I won’t be fucked with.
I am balancing heart-centered action with my ambition.
I am writing down my goals, and seeing them through.
I feel like the center can hold, though life will surely change me.
But I’ve found a peace in myself at long last, a space where my soul lives in love, and mostly steady comfort, and can be free.