During every season of change, I get so caught up in the muck, fuck-up and duck of it. My thoughts start reflecting these rush-hour based beliefs (I should’ve gotten more done, I’m not doing enough).
after an honest therapy session yesterday, I realized that the root of a lot of my recent heartaches are from the way I speak about myself, think about myself. Instead of considering how hard I work, how much I try, I‘ve been pouring pebbles into my soup and wondering why it was so hard to eat. In other words: I’m real mean to myself.
I’ve attached what this open book page can be, and I just come write a little note on it whenever I return from my journey from the outside world. It feels nice to be nice, truly.
I have no timeline to finish this, no minimum level of detail I need to explain my actions. It’s going to be very sweet to reflect with every version of myself who paused, took off her coat, picked a coloured pen, and appreciated what she is, who she’s becoming.