If you’re addicted to your feelings of inadequacy — then you’re not alone.
For years, I’ve seen only the gaping holes in my life. I’ve looked around me and often ignored the love and the connection that is reaching out to me.
I’ve focused on the empty moments: the texts that aren’t returned by friends, lovers, or family members. I’ve focused on the gruffness of the cashiers that suddenly turn my open heart sour. I’ve focused on the quiet nights when I’ve gotten no phone calls. I’ve focused on the debt and the lack of funds in my bank account.
I’ve been addicted to seeing what I don’t have, instead of seeing what I do have.
Do the holidays make you overwhelmed too?
I can think of 10 million other places I’d rather be than a holiday party. One of them is a cave with a friendly, cuddly (probably smelly — because since when do caves have showers?) lion. Smelly, cuddly lion sounds a lot more fun than a roomful of people asking me the same question on repeat while donning ugly sweaters.
The holidays suck. Any HSP would agree with me, right?
Once you do, you’ll humbly flaunt it. Here’s how.
Hello fellow human. If you’re reading this, you’re worthy. Maybe you already know that. Or maybe you’re totally clueless and constantly questioning what it is you’re doing on this grand ole’ planet we call Earth.
I’m writing for the tired and weary and wavering as much as I’m writing for the cocky and arrogant and self-aggrandizing souls. After all, we are all striving for something similar, aren't we?
When one love is enough.
It only takes one heart to love you.
Did you know that?
Yes, you who tosses and turns all night, hoping someone other than you would love you.
Did you know those endless, restless nights don’t have to continue?
I have a secret for you.
Are you willing to come close and lend me your ear? I’ll be quiet, I promise.
I was a cutter. My body was my bullseye until his death transformed me.
I’ve always been a thoughtful, cautious person. Ever since I could remember I’ve taken great care with my actions. My family used to jokingly call me the alien child because I wasn’t carefree and careless at times like everyone else in my household.
Then when puberty hit and my hormones raged, I started to be more reckless with my life. I still wonder why no one told me about hormones and the moodiness that accompanied them like a haunting old flame? I think a semblance of awareness of the changes happening to my brain and body would have saved me loads of pain and inner-struggle, and perhaps even transformed my life.
Somewhere along the line, I realized I had to love her.
For years I tried to heal her. But instead of healing her, I suppressed her. I choked her. I suffocated every last morsel of her darkness into a New Age love and the light-filled abyss.
I would write affirmations 50 and then 100 times over.
I love myself. I am worthy. I’m confident. I am valuable. I am enough.
A Love Letter From Your Soul
I know you doubt yourself often. I know your worries often pull you out of enjoying simple pleasures. You’ve always had this human thing right.
Look at your quiet moments — those simple book-reading, song-listening, sunset-watching, chatting-with-friend moments. Remove the self-doubt and peer deeper. You were you, unabashedly and proudly, if I may say so.
Only read this if you’re serious about change. If you’re not, read on. There’s plenty of other entertaining articles on Medium to keep your mind occupied.
My inner abuser wrote the subtitle.
She’s got a love for all things S&M. She’s unkind in a playful way (but actually means it). My inner abuser is genuinely nasty and overly dramatic about it.
We all have an inner abuser.
I know that’s a harsh word, but I’m talking about that harsh voice that uses abusive statements to get our attention. Statements that, if said to you by an outsider, you’d label as verbal or emotional abuse.
I spent most of my life in a half-alive state. I was here and I wasn’t. Maybe you can resonate?
I used to think I couldn’t live my dreams.
I used to think dreams were just fantasies that would never come to fruition.
I was raised in a family that neither praised nor poo-pooed my dreams.
That inner judge has something to teach you; listen.
I’ve spent years working on loving myself more. It sounds silly when I write it out.
Working on self-love sounds like a job — a hard job you don’t get paid for. A job that shouldn’t be a job and shouldn’t be hard. Self-love is something that should be natural. Shouldn’t it?
Soul Writer. Single Mama. Life ponderer. Nature Lover. Therapist. Introvert. HSP & Empath. Life is my playground and each day a blank canvas.