Tonight played out like a typical Saturday. I watched my brother from 6-9pm, did a bit of reading and writing, and danced around the house to Nelly Furtado.
"Not everything in this magical world is quite what it seems 🎶 "
I hope you know the song I'm referencing. It's a 2000s classic. If not, I'll give you a hint: it's the title of this entry.
I feel like although I ALREADY haven't met the high expectations I set for myself at the beginning of the year, I'm becoming... solid again. I accept myself more. I shrug off my faults. Live with less shame.
While I know I can do better with self discipline, I recognize that I have made progress in the last 2 years. I know I can endure loss. I'm not afraid to face sadness or grief. It's a drop in the bucket compared to what PTSD was/occasionally still is.
I think the whole reason I had trouble accepting myself in years past was that I would convince myself that because I couldn't stick to my "standard of perfection", I was rotten. The more I believed that, the deeper I sank.
I am not my worst just as I am not my best. There's no median of my personality or actions, either. It's more like looking at a painting. That's true of everyone's life.
I hope in the years that follow I am able to take my strength and my stories and sally forth on many great (or small) adventures. I don't care where I go or who sees me. God will put the right people in my path. I care more about who I become. I don't care about how many people I touch, I care about what I leave them with.
Let this all be for the good. Let me waste none of my experiences. I belong here now.
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