I wish I had been told I was already worthy…

Instead, I’m working on laying down the story that I have to be skinny and beautiful and young to be worthy and enough.

Working on laying down the story that my worth was dependent on whether or not men found me desirable and that I should settle for crumbs from anyone who does because a man’s opinion of me is worth far more than my own.

Working on laying down the story that no matter what I achieve or how good my heart is or who I am is never enough unless I am above all, beautiful and desirable.

Working to lay down all the bullshit my mother said to me because she didn’t have an ounce of self-esteem. Working through this incessant need to prove myself worthy to her and my father who abandoned me. Working through not feeling seen. Working through feeling alone.

Working through the fact that the only relationship I ever saw was one where my mom was emotionally battered, gas-lighted and manipulated by a narcissist. And that she chose him over my brother and I, every single time. And that I was gas-lighted every time I spoke out. And that I am the one who has to shoulder the burden of that relationship even now.

Working through the fact that my father decided he didn’t need to be part of my life to teach me how I deserved to be treated. Working through the mixture of jealousy and gratitude I have that my daughters get this from their father.

Working to find the balance between wanting to feel pretty for myself instead of for someone else and acknowledging how dependent I still am on external validation.

Working to heal my feminine by forgiving my mother for passing her pain to me. Working to understand that her brokenness does not have to be mine.

Working to break fucking cycles so my daughters aren’t collateral damage from my own lack of self-esteem.

Working to break fucking cycles so I can love myself, completely. Because you can’t really love anyone well until you do.

Working to break fucking cycles so they know a healthy relationship with self and others when they feel it.

Working through a lifetime of shame, anger, pain and abandonment.

Working through to thriving over surviving.

I AM STILL SO FUCKING ANGRY.

GIVING MYSELF PERMISSION TO BE ANGRY.

Fuck, this is all so complicated. I don’t have it all figured out. I have moments when I feel like I’ve healed myself and then other moments where I feel more lost and triggered than ever before. I share here because vulnerability saves me in those moments. Laying it open and honoring all those parts that are thorny and tangled so that someone else on this journey realizes they are not alone, HELPS ME.

SAYING IT AND SHARING IT eliminates its power.

The strongest people are those who choose to be vulnerable. 

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