Like. Care for. Fancy.

I began to write in this blank space, and the first words that I typed were pretty sad.

I realized I was writing about how hard everything is and how I’m struggling.

And the words my therapist spoke came back to me, about how powerful words are. About how the way we narrate our stories matters.

I could write about how my day is dragging and I’m tired of fighting and I just want a group of strong women to talk to because I have so many thoughts and questions.

I could write a hopeless post about how I don’t feel like I’m moving anywhere and how my heart is so tired.

Instead of focusing on all of the things I feel like I am doing “wrong”, I’m going to try to put a different perspective on things.

Yes, I’m tired. I’m also exhilarated. 

I’m learning so much, I’m packing my bags with tools and new ways of thinking.

I’m becoming more aware. Of the words I speak, the actions I make, of my own voice.

All of the little changes are adding up.

Limiting beliefs are being ripped away, leaving space to be filled with curiosity.

I’m trying to put everything into perspective. I’m learning to feel and be unafraid.

I was so out of it, for so long. I often look in the mirror and study my face, not quite recognizing it.

Reading Brene Brown and finally understanding her words fully.

Questioning the language I use around food. Why is it always “need” for me?

 I have to need food to deserve it. I have to be light headed, tummy grumbling, diet soda sipping hungry, to even think about asking ed for a bite.

This is what I became, a girl, shackled to a monster. He told me I didn’t need anything.

So I set out to find a new word, in its place. I chose 4. 

Like. Care For. Fancy.

These words are pleasant, even fun! Asking myself “would I care for more” instead of “do you need more?” sounds much less threatening.

Words hold emotion and power. 

I never realized before now, just how much.

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