Cliche title, right? Well, I’m restarting my journey…again.  It is one of self-love, and not in the masturbatory sense, but in the “I love myself whether anyone else does or not” sense.  I’ve spent the last 20 or so years (since the nebulous age when I decided that others’ opinions of me were of the utmost importance in my life) on a roller coaster of emotions.  Now, of course, when I was little, it was definitely a kiddie ride. But, as I’ve gotten older, I haven’t managed to silence the negative voices. No, it’s more like I’ve given them megaphones and permission to shout into them. Greeeaaaaat. So, now, at the ripe old age of 25, in the midst of a master’s program in Arts Administration, I am depressed. Worse than ever before.

So, this Friday, I’m going to counseling.  After all, I’m kind, smart, important, and beautiful and just because I wrote it doesn’t mean I always believe it. That’s the road I’m on right now. Reaching the place this me appears to be in…peace.

25. Tall. Intelligent. Silly. Thinker. Overthinker. Singer. Dancer. Writer. Loving. Unhappy. I will find peace. Sister. Friend. Woman. Girl.

Placed in God’s care. Superior mind.

Bet you were expecting a picture of a road, huh?


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