Tag Archives: self-love

If Words Were a Hug

I would be lying if I said that this is how I expected my life to be. I’m grateful, but truthfully, most days I’m frustrated with myself. I can be so hard on myself, as if I could see the future when I was making decisions. I’m further along than many, but I’m far behind where I want to be. I’m in an endless cycle of burnout and exhaustion on this “journey” to figure out what actually matters to me. Healing isn’t always pretty. It’s not just hot baths, flights and flowers; some nights, it’s crying in the mirror and saying all the things that you want to hear from someone else, until you feel safe and loved. This is the result of one of those nights.


I love you.
I love you.
I love you.”
I’m sitting in front of the mirror. The room is illuminated by the dancing flicker of the flame from my chakra candles.
Green for my heart. Orange for my Sacral.
Nobody exists but me.
Nobody is coming to “save me”.
Tears fall, but I keep talking because I need to hear it to feel it.

I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I forgive you.
I forgive you for the times you didn’t listen to your intuition.
I forgive you for putting the pleasure, joy, and well being of others ahead of your own.
I believe in you.
Today. Tomorrow. Every day.
Clear the noise and know that I am proud of you.”

As a smile spreads freely across my face and the salt of my tears touches my taste buds, I am reminded that all is well.

Let this be a reminder to you:
All is well. Though you may not feel it now, you are whole. You are loved. You are valued. Every day.

Talk Your Shit

Have you noticed how often confidence is incorrectly labeled as arrogance or cockiness? As if your hard work, research, sleepless nights and failures didn’t exist and your accomplishments were all dumb luck. All that you’ve poured into your area of expertise gives you the right to speak with confidence and conviction. Don’t allow bystanders and nosebleed seat fillers to dim your light because there’s a reason they have time to be so critical – they’re WATCHING, not working. The people who are grindin’ and focusing on leveling up offer solutions and constructive criticism.

So.

I implore you. I beg you.

PLEASE, TALK YOUR SHIT!

You didn’t work this hard to be silent.

Flex!

Share your talents, knowledge, and hard work without shame or fear. Hold your head high and look “them” in the eyes while you talk your shit.


Talk Your Shit

I AIN’T RUNNING FROM NOTHIN’

For the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m not running. I’m standing with my face to the sun. On days when the sun doesn’t shine, I stand toe to toe with my fears. I question my attachments because what got me here won’t get me where I want to go.

Laying on the beach. Solo. The wind’s blowing wild, the birds are singing and the waves are crushing my insecurities. My toe’s fucked up, but the X-ray said it’s not broken so I sip my nasty beer and eat my delicious ham sammich. I wiggle my toes a little bit to make sure this moment of solitude and serenity is real. The twinge of pain that shoots up my foot confirms, shit’s real.

The sandwich is done. I’m in a bikini that fits better now than it did in 2013 when I bought it, but I still have belly to rub. I’m rubbin my belly, fantasizing about the life I’m creating and tossing around the revelation that I’m not running from anything. Instead, I took a beach day for myself because it’s what I wanted. I made it a solo day because I only wanted to be with me. Not because life is too heavy or because I’m scared to face reality, but because I wanted to enjoy a moment with my star player.

Smiling at the water. Salt on my lips.

I’m flowing to my purpose. I’m in alignment. I’m divinely positioned and it’s all making sense now. It’s me, myself and I against any issues and it’s not aggression, but a search for understanding that shapes my perception. Watermelon juice dripping off my chin. Ice cold Capri Sun quenching my thirst. Rubbing my fat ass belly on the beach.

I’m divinely positioned and I’m feeling just fine.

Something Like a Spring Garden

Small moments mean the world to me because I know what it’s like when those moments don’t happen. I ask you to help me build something or to teach me your perspective because those are moments we didn’t get before.

As I’m growing, I have learned to look at you as a man, not just my dad. That shift in perspective helps me see you. Not your mistakes or shortcomings, just you. It allows me to extend patience and speak freely.

You’re my dad, but I choose for you to be my homie.

This is my healing. This is me forgiving. This is us growing.

Every project completed and every honest conversation is a step forward.

I’m in therapy learning skills that allow me to navigate the blocks engrained in me since conception, but it’s out here with you that the heavy lifting happens. I never say it aloud-I get that whole “taking shit for granted” vibe from you, but I’m learning-but I appreciate the times you show up. I’m grateful for you and look forward to seeing you grow because you’re never too old to do your best.

Ay Da! Thanks for doing yard work and asking to take a picture with me on Easter, that’s major.

Rise.

I am safe.

I am protected.

I am loving.

I am loved.

I create peace. 

I speak sunrays.

I smile gratitude.

I rise with affirmations and gratitude. On those mornings when my anxiety’s attempting to Geppetto me into doing nothing or screaming statistics in my ear, I quiet the noise with gratitude. When I feel like I have nothing, I wiggle my toes and fingers, rub my hands together, blink and smile. That’s how I remind myself that if I don’t do anything more in the day, I’ve already won because I’ve defeated the voices that told me not to rise.

I encourage you to rise. Fuck those voices. 

Breath in your body means you’ve got a reason to live.

You’re a gift. 

Your existence is important, even if you don’t feel like it in the moment,

Rise.


All is Well Tee