self love

Work For and From the Inside

About a week ago my mom, sister and I went to get massages.

We’d each received a gift certificate for Christmas and were finally able to make (and keep) an appointment, since the first couple were cancelled due to one of us having COVID.

We were very excited, as we’d booked—for the first time ever—ninety-minute massages. And with a myriad of different stressors weighing on us from the past month or so, we were ready (and desperate) to *relax*.

I had even asked for the deep tissue massage, which, if you happened to read this post regarding my feelings on my first ever massage, will let you know 1) how much of the massage Kool-Aid I’ve drank over the last few years, and 2) how much I wanted the stress more or less beaten out of me. I wanted that stress to run for its life. I wanted a stress exorcism.

When the masseuse asked if there were any areas to focus on, I said: neck, shoulders and back.

They have forever been where I hold everything. From the annoyance of that bad driver I encountered on the freeway yesterday, to that mean thing a girl said to me in high school 15 years ago. It’s also where, for a long time, my muscles were working overtime to keep my head on my shoulders due to my bad posture—that I’ve since put in a lot of energy (and a lot of money at the chiropractor) to correct.

Needless to say, I love having my neck, shoulders and back massaged. It feels like ironing a wrinkly shirt. And since it had been a while since my last massage, I was sure there were going to be quite a few wrinkles to tend to.

To my surprise, as I lay face down on the table and the masseuse dug into what seemed like the very core of my spine, assumedly finding evidence that I still hadn’t fully forgiven someone who wronged me in the seventh grade, he asked, “do you ever do any kind of stretching or foam rolling?”

I tried to nod, but then remembered my face was framed by the pillow, making my neck borderline immovable.

“Yes,” I said. “I foam roll my back a few times a week”—something that was recommended by my chiropractor—“and I try to do yoga two or three times a week.”

He made a quick “mhm” noise, and I assumed it was partnered with a nod.

“I can tell,” he said. “While you have tension in your back, there are no knots at all. So your efforts are paying off.”

I lay there, letting his words repeat in my head.

I thought about all the anxiety I felt going into our day at the spa. I always got nervous knowing I’d have to spend time in my bathing suit—or naked, under the sheets of the massage table—overly critical of my body and how it compared to others.

I thought of all the times I’d done yoga, or gone for a run or a walk, hoping that the efforts I was putting in would garner positive results that I could see in the mirror.

I thought of all the times I’d hidden my body behind baggy clothes, anxious hands, or the body of someone else.

And then I thought about how my body, my muscles, and my bones themselves might be benefiting from my exercise, my (mostly) healthy diet, my efforts to meditate, and to express myself both emotionally, physically, and creatively.

Those efforts might not show in the mirror. They might not match up to some kind of image I have in my head of what a body is “supposed” to look like. But they do change the way my body feels. They do the work on the inside of my body.

We are told so often to focus on physical results and to hit monetary goals, when so much benefit can come from doing work for and from the inside first. I know what it feels like when I eat healthy, when I exercise, when I don’t slouch, when I can relax into deep, honest conversations with those I trust. These things make me feel light, they bring an ease to my days, and, apparently, give me the iron to take to that wrinkly shirt.

After the massage, I lay on one of the daybeds beside my mom, reading a book and listening to the sound of falling water. Then I took a long, hot shower and blow dried my hair. On the way home, we picked up dinner from one of my favorite places and then sat on the couch and watched a movie.

It was a great day, not because things looked perfect on the outside, but because they felt good from the inside.

We’re Going Out Tonight

As I took my seat in the audience, I took a slow look at the people around me. There were conversations happening everywhere. Some serious, some lighthearted, some loud, and some whispered. Hands joined in greetings and introductions, and arms pulled shoulders into happy hugs. The stage was set, the show was getting ready to start, and the seats were filling up by the minute.

I fiddled with my rings, two on each hand. I don’t get to wear them as often as I’d like because I work with too many metals and chemicals that might damage them. So when I do put them on, it means I’m going somewhere special, somewhere fun, somewhere I want to feel the slightest bit fancy.

I put on my favorite pair of jeans and a fun top, a pair of white sneakers and my jean jacket. Standing in front of the mirror while I got ready, I put on mascara and some eyeshadow, and brushed product in my hair to give it a little oomph. I felt comfortable, I felt cute, I felt like myself, which is my favorite feeling—especially since it hasn’t always been the most common.

Getting ready can be a miserable process. Sometimes you walk into your closet and it feels as if all you own is a series of different colored grocery bags, and when you put them on you feel like the trash that people throw into those grocery bags in an effort to upcycle. I have been brought to tears by everything from the seam of a sock to the tag on a t-shirt. I have participated in the cliché throwing of outfit after outfit onto my bed, and I have dramatically slid down the front of my dresser, with my shirt half on and my pants unbuttoned, hoping that by the time I hit the floor the world might spontaneously combust so I won’t have to finish getting dressed.

If I manage to get through that step though, all new obstacles await me in the bathroom. With the slightest error, my go-to makeup routine can become a session of torture. Sometimes I’ll put on the finishing touches and think, cool, I’ve turned a goblin into an oily goblin with eyeshadow. Other times I will look at my concealer brush as if it has betrayed me by not turning me into an entirely different person, and I apply so much powder in an attempt to hide my blemishes that I look like I fell asleep in a bowl of flour—then I’m mad about that and so I start over.

And sometimes, I’ll get all the way ready, feeling pretty good, or, at the very least, not pretty bad, and then I’ll walk out, either in public amongst strangers, or just into my living room amongst friends and family, and think, awesome, everyone looks great and I look like I rolled in the gutter and then put lipstick on.

I’ll admit, sometimes the mere prospect of getting ready can sway me from wanting to leave my house. The threat of feeling those negative feelings about myself or of comparing myself to others can prevent me from wanting to go anywhere at all. Because at home, in my space, amongst my things and my people, I know I can be exactly who I am, exactly the way I look, with no judgement. And when I step outside, I expose myself to a lot of eyes and opinions that I am sometimes not ready for.

But I’m starting to learn that while yes, some days are just going to be tough, sometimes getting ready is going to feel less desirable than getting the stomach flu—with the finished product feeling just as nauseating—the more you start to appreciate, understand and know who you are on the inside, the more you are able to honestly, accurately and comfortably present that person on the outside.

As I sat down in the audience on Saturday night, I felt like myself. I knew why I’d chosen that outfit and why I’d put on my makeup and my rings, and I wasn’t looking around the room for reasons why those choices were wrong or inferior.  I knew what made me feel confident to go out, and I loved seeing what everyone else chose.

Looking around, I saw a snakeskin blazer and black boots, a grey sweater with a small, hand embroidered flower on the back, a fedora, a black breton with lace detail, a shiny silk shirt tucked into a pleated skirt, a Tommy Hilfiger jacket, straight hair, curly hair, hair that was gelled back, suits, blue jeans, high heels, sneakers, necklaces, earrings, bedazzled masks and headbands. There were patterns and solid colors, and textures of all kinds.

In a room full of about 100 people, not one looked the same. But each of us had stood in front of the mirror, maybe agonizingly, maybe casually, maybe for hours, maybe for a few minutes. We all stood in front of the mirror and said, “okay, we’re going out tonight.” Maybe not everyone felt as confident as they’d like to, and maybe a few people walked in with that familiar feeling of, why does everyone look great except me? But as I looked at the people around me, I was just happy to see us all out. Happy to see us all expressing ourselves and our styles, all different and all wonderful.

We’d all overcome the biggest obstacle to getting ready—ourselves—and now we were all there, ready to have a good night. The lights went down, the show started, and I smiled, comfortable.

I Love Me (Part 3)

A few years ago, I was inspired by a fellow blogger to start a series that encourages friends and family to write down things they love about themselves.

We often find it too easy to criticize or put ourselves down, whether it be in an attempt to be funny or relatable, or as a side effect of comparison. On the flip side, we rarely, if ever, actively look for things we love about ourselves, and if we do, it is even more taboo to state those things out loud (or write them down for others to read.)

But I’ve now made it a tradition to ask friends and family to take this challenge. To sit down, bask in all of their wonderful, and then share it with others. So, in this third installment of the I Love Me series, allow me to introduce you to some incredible women.


Kristine

I love the way I love others. I always try to please/help everyone and put others before myself.

I love that I am athletic and competitive, but also a good sport.

I love my confidence and my ability not to care what others think, even when I’m my own worst critic. I love that I can laugh at myself.

I love that I am weird and I can embrace my weird wherever I go.

I love that I am hardworking. I am ready to take on any challenge and I am always ready to go above and beyond in anything that I do.


Sammie

I love how much I care for others and animals. I have so much compassion and empathy for others.

I love that I am discerning. I make careful choices and do what’s best for me and those around me. I always try to do the right thing.

I love how authentic I am. I am the same me with everyone around. I love that I don’t compromise myself, my wants, or needs for anyone else.

I love how loyal I am. I’m the friend you call at 3:00 a.m. to drive you to the airport or ask to say let’s bury a body. I am consistent and committed to those I love, even my long-distance friends. I am always ready to pick up where we left off.

I love that I am a nerd. I love learning new things. I love videogames, fantasy and sci-fi. If we could sit on the couch and watch Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter all weekend I’d be in my happy place.

I love how strong I am. I am strong mentally (or stubborn lol), physically (despite my size), and emotionally (I can handle far more than I think I’m capable of.)

I love who I am overall. My demeanor, my mannerisms, and my values. I know it’s not all me: it’s my family, my friends, and my experiences I’ve picked up along the way. You can’t figure me out with one glance and I think that’s special. I love that I’m unique. I love the things that have contributed to the me I am today—good or bad.

I want to love more things about myself, but I don’t feel I am there yet and that’s okay. I am a work in progress, and working on loving myself in all aspects. But for now, it’s good enough. I am good enough, and I love that for me.


Ashlynn

I love my sense of humor and that my husband always gets my jokes.

I love that I get to care for a little man and be his guide for the future.

I love that I am becoming a morning person slowly but surely.

I love that I get to help people everyday.

I love that I learned to make the recipes my mother-in-law shared with me.

I love that I can find something in common with anyone.

I love my sense of style (which I learned from the most stylish person I know who I am lucky enough to call mom)


Mel

I love my smile. I feel like a smile can truly make a difference in a person’s day and I am eager to share mine with the world!

I love that I am adventurous! I find great joy in my time spent outdoors every week and live a happier, healthier life because of it! I love that I am (relatively) unafraid and am willing to challenge myself.

I love that I am a caregiver. I love that I can have an impact on a person’s wellbeing through my work and that I can be the healer and ally that they need through their rehabilitation.

I love my sincerity. I love that I am genuine in my relationships and make an honest effort to grow in friendship with both friends and family.

I love my relationship with God. It is forever growing and changing, but I love that I now spend quiet time each day reflecting and praying to Him.


Kelsi

I love that I’m passionate about the things I care most about.

I love that I am discerning and have chosen a solid support group of friends.

I love that I’ve given myself permission to not always be good at things but to do them simply because they bring me joy such as painting, embroidery, and planting.

I love that I can recognize my own wrong doings and ask others for forgiveness.

I love that I cheer on people while they accomplish their dreams. It brings me such happiness to see people doing their thing.


You can read the last edition of this series here.

The Pants Can’t Do Everything

Confession: I like online shopping.

The ease. The convenience. The ability to make fun mail arrive on my doorstep. It is wonderful.

But sometimes I use shopping—or perhaps, the items I shop for—in a way that I shouldn’t. I pretend that shopping will solve my problems or make me feel better when it won’t. I try to shop my way to somewhere, something or someone, hoping a certain pair of pants, sweater, t-shirt, jean jacket, pair of shoes, book, journal, coffee mug or eyeshadow palette will do all the leg work for me.

Do you know what I mean?

Sometimes I feel down or lonely or out of sorts and I will have a certain struggle on my mind, but rather than actively working through that struggle, rather than talking to a friend, exercising, journaling, meditating, going for a walk, reading my bible, or just sitting in the struggle as it works itself out, I will shop.

I will look at prayer journals, assuming that if I buy that journal, I will become a better, more productive prayer and I will strengthen my relationship with God.

I will look at running shorts and assume that if I can find them in my size, I will improve my mile time and get in incredible shape and finally be proud and comfortable in my body.

I will look at shoes and imagine myself strutting confidently, my introversion thrown out the window. I will look at t-shirts and imagine myself casual and cool, someone people admire and envy and wish they could be like. I will look at makeup and imagine I am as beautiful as all the girls I see in the magazines. I will look at blazers and imagine myself at the top of the corporate ladder, financially stable, with the ability to travel anywhere at any time.

I rely on objects to make me a different person, rather than giving myself time to grow into the person that I actually am. And oftentimes the girl I’m picturing in all of these fantasies, the girl who stars in all of the daydreams that convince me to add to cart, is not me at all. She is a version of me that I’ve convinced myself is “the right” version. The version that the media has deemed pretty, successful, worthy, etc. So when the packages arrive full of clothes and things that are supposed to fit her, they don’t fit me. I don’t like the way they look or maybe a part of me is just disappointed that my daydream didn’t come true. That even though I have these new shoes, I’m still unhappy or lonely. Or even though I bought that eyeshadow palette, that relationship didn’t pan out the way I hoped it would. Even though I bought this or subscribed to that, I am still me, in the same place, with all the same struggles.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with shopping. There’s nothing wrong with buying something that you want, that makes you feel good and inspires you to go out there, try new things and better yourself. There’s also nothing wrong with manifestation. With buying something that can help you picture a specific dream and can help motivate you to chase it.

What I’m doing is shopping in place of feeling. In place of listening to what I really need and want—even though in the moment it might seem like what I both want and need is that pair of leggings THAT ARE ON SALE.  I want to stop shopping under the assumption that buying something is the same as doing something or trying something.

Buying running shorts won’t make me a better runner. Running will.

Buying a journal won’t create a daily journaling habit for me. Journaling daily will.

I have to put in the work to make what I buy capable of fulfilling what I dreamt it could.

I have to be the person in the shoes or the pants or the dress and I have to appreciate how I wear them, not wish they turned me into someone else.

I have to live my own life, my things can’t do that for me.

So maybe I don’t need those pants today. Maybe I just need to take a deep breath and figure out what it is I really want—and then go out and get it.

Find the Things that Fill You Up

At the beginning of the year I set out on a quest to find a morning routine. And while that process has been and might forever remain a process, I have recently found myself in need of an afternoon routine as well.

Seeing as many things are still closed and many activities are still limited, I often find my afternoons and evenings in need of filling. Unlike my morning routine however, I can’t necessarily say, “oops, I overslept, guess I’ll try again tomorrow.” I often get home at 4:00 p.m., and while occasionally a nap seems necessary, I’m not looking to become nocturnal and/or nap off the possibility of a great night’s sleep.

Still, it’s hard after a long day of work to find the motivation to do a lot. Sometimes I want to take a nap. Sometimes I want to watch a movie. Sometimes I want to clean. Sometimes I want to exercise. Sometimes I want to talk to friends. And sometimes I want to stay cooped up in my room and ponder the state of my life and/or the world.

In this mishmash of wants and hopes and goals and laziness, I have found that the number one thing to remember when setting yourself a routine—for any time of day, really—is to find things that fill you up.

Emphasis on the you.

For a long time I was putting so much pressure on myself to be productive, to be active, to only do things that would drive me forward. I was trying to check off boxes of successful people, and do things that would in turn make me (or at least make me sound) successful.  And sometimes I felt so overwhelmed by this pressure that I wouldn’t know where to start, and so I would just scroll on my phone for hours and do nothing, which made me feel worse, and would make the pressure to do “big” things the next day even greater, thus making the chances of me laying on my phone even greater.

It was a vicious cycle.

And so, I decided that my only goal for every afternoon and evening was to do things that make me feel good. Things that filled me up. Me. Not those I saw on social media. Not those who might ask me how my day was. Me. What made me feel like I had a good, enjoyable, and productive afternoon?

As of now, this:

When I get home from work, (time willing) I give myself about an hour to decompress on my bed. That might mean scrolling on my phone. That might mean taking a nap. That might mean finishing an episode of a podcast or TV show that I started earlier in the day. Then I will get up, roll out my mat, and do some yoga.  Then I’ll sit down at my desk and do a section of my prayer journal (right now I’m working through The Between Places by Stephanie May Wilson). Then I’ll grab whichever book I’m reading (right now it’s Fortitude by Dan Crenshaw) and I’ll read one chapter before heading into the kitchen to make dinner.

During dinner, I’ll watch an episode of a TV show (right now I’m watching The Boys on Amazon Prime) and then I’ll take a shower, get into some comfy clothes, and sit down on the couch to do some writing, or work on my counted cross-stitch (don’t come for me and my grandma ways).

Again that’s:

  • Decompress
  • Yoga
  • Prayer Journal
  • Read 1 chapter of a book
  • Dinner + TV
  • Shower
  • Write and/or counted cross-stitch

Obviously this isn’t carved in stone. Sometimes I’m not in the mood for everything on this list, sometimes I’m in the mood for none of it, sometimes I’m in the mood for more. The point is, each of these things fill me up. Each of these things provide me with a little boost of something good. And so when I have the time, I am motivated to do them because I know I will enjoy them.

So if you’re in need for some structure in your day—be that the morning, the afternoon, the evening, weekdays or weekends, look for the things that fill you up. Look for the things that make you excited to do them. Look for the things that help you pass the time rather than allowing the time to pass you.

I Love Me (Part 2)

A couple years ago I posted this blog, where I was inspired by a blogging friend to challenge both myself and some of my favorite ladies to write out things that we love about ourselves. It was uncomfortable, a little difficult, and almost felt…wrong—which is exactly why I’m back to do it again with some of my friends.

There is a lot of hard in the world right now, and there is a lot of hate. So I thought it was the perfect time to circulate some love into the picture. Personally, I could write pages and pages about how wonderful each of these ladies are, but I think that would make them even more uncomfortable. So I’ll stick to their words.

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Sam

I love that I can see the good in all people. Even though I’ve been hurt by some I know that we all deserve love.

I love that I have grown to be a more understanding and compassionate person.

I love that I can admit to myself that I am not perfect and I have often been wrong. I use that to keep a light heart and forgive myself and others.

I love that I love all beings and creatures and try my best to cause as little harm as possible.

I love that I have had the courage to travel the world and make friends who have taught me so much.

And I love that I truly believe we are all here for a reason and anything is possible in this life.

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Nicole

I love my dorky sense of humor and that I am quick to laugh.

I love that I am athletic and an adventurer… a cautious adventurer but still an adventurer at heart

I love how I how much I care for my own

I love that I am into “old lady crafts” such a knitting

I love that I am not afraid to be childish (ex. My love for Harry Potter, Disney and LOTR)

I love that I am a fisher woman and will show up them boys!

I love how much I care for our planet. Proud planet citizen over here!

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Natalee

I love my brain. I love that I am always trying to learn and research and analyze, and I love that learning itself brings me joy.

I love my career. I love that I am challenged every day by my clients and my coworkers, and that I can genuinely see the difference my work makes in the lives of others.

I love my roots. I love that I learned at a young age, it really is Family. Over. Everything.

I love that I am a good friend. I am active about trying to make the people in my life feel loved, valued, and supported, and I am really proud (and grateful!) for the strong friendships that I have in my life.

I love how much I love sports, and I love that I can keep up with almost any sports-related conversation. I also love the sass that sports bring out of me, because Lord knows it’s real.

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Taylor

I love myself because I am independent and strong willed.

I love myself because I can accomplish anything I set my sights on, without anyone there pushing me to do so. (Like getting my phlebotomy license, then choosing to go to through flight attendant interviews…almost becoming a flight attendant, to then choosing to go back to school and finish with my BA degree)

I love myself because I wear my heart on my sleeve and am true to my heart.

I love myself because I am caring towards others feelings and needs.

I love myself because I am a damn great cook and not afraid to add spices without following a recipe!

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Rachel

I love that I believe life shouldn’t always be easy. I welcome challenges while doing everyday things and find that they keep life more interesting.

I love that I can always be the first one to laugh at myself.

I love that I am both gentle and tough though I don’t always show either.

I love that I am a newly converted early bird. I was wasting so much time sleeping in!

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Allison

I love that I can push myself to be outgoing when I need to be. I am naturally very introverted and even though it’s a challenge, I’m never disappointed when I step out of my shell.

I love that I’m an extremely loyal person and that I fiercely protect the people I love.

I love that I am a strong woman who has surrounded myself with other strong women.

I love that I’m spontaneous and adventurous because an unplanned road trip is always worth it. And I love that I  keep snacks in my car for said unplanned road trips.

I love that I’m constantly learning about myself and how to be more comfortable in my own skin

 

Thank You For Your Magic

I am currently reading “Untamed” by Glennon Doyle and I just wanted to share this little blurp from the book that inspired me:

 

“Each of us was born to bring forth something that has never existed: a way of being, a family, an idea, art, a community—something brand-new. We are here to fully introduce ourselves, to impose ourselves and ideas and thoughts and dreams onto the world, leaving it changed forever by who we are and what we bring forth from our depths.”

 

It’s easy to get caught up in all the things we think and believe we aren’t, but it’s important to remember all of the wonderful, unique things that we are. We are each so important to the world and waste so much time thinking otherwise. So today, rather than leaning on those self criticisms and the constant nit picking of what is wrong with you or your life, take a second to appreciate what a special thing you bring to the world just by being. Take a second to revel in how lucky the world is to have you and how much it needs you and all of the magic you bring to each and every day.

 

Thank you for your magic, I know it helps me, and I hope mine helps you.heavy-black-heart_2764

I Love Me

A couple weeks ago my friend and fellow blogger, Allison A, posted a blog all about self love. She brought up the frustratingly common tendency we have as a population, especially as women, to not only talk down about ourselves, but to make a point not to brag about ourselves. To counter this, she asked some friends to purposefully list things they love about themselves, both to inspire self-confidence in them and empower other women (and men!) to do the same. Enter me, stage right, LOVING EVERY MINUTE OF IT.

So, in the spirit of that blog, I come to you today with a my own. But instead of asking a handful of friends, I decided to ask my mom and three aunts, four women I have long considered role models. Over the years, I’ve seen them turn a blind eye to compliments, always deflecting, always putting others first, and I wanted this to be a way that they could finally sit down and realize how wonderful they are.

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My Aunt Jacque

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(She’s the lovely lady on the left)

I love that family will always come first for me, no matter what the circumstances.

I love that I have two long term polar opposite friends, in personality, that round out parts of my personality.

I love that I have planned my financial life, so that God willing, I will always feel “secure”

I love that my very favorite thing to do is laugh.

I love that I recently realized that I don’t have to be busy all of the time. That I have earned some quiet time

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My Aunt Candee

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I love that I have made a difference in the lives of so many children. (She’s been a kindergarten teacher for 19 years!)

I love that I have a responsibility gene, gifted to me by Mary Poppins, AKA grandma…. I always give my all at work and in life in general.

I love that I am a loyal friend and confidant.

I love that I genuinely and passionately love and care about my family and would do anything for them at a moment’s notice.

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My Aunt Tracy

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I love that I belong to a fantastic family and that I am an essential part of making it fantastic! (Both my immediate family and extended family)

I love that I can get ready to go just about anywhere in a short period of time.  Doesn’t matter if I just rolled out of bed and we are going out to breakfast….or if we have a big event to go to and we get home from a volleyball tournament with 30 minutes prep time.  I can quickly pull myself together and it doesn’t take forever!

I love that I have created so many family scrapbooks (and I am sad that I haven’t continued!).  We can be sitting at home on a Friday night and one of the kids will grab a book and we can all look through it and remember the days.

I love that I am able to maintain long distance/long duration friendships and that we can get together and pick up right where we left off.

I love that at the ripe old age of 53, I still play beach volleyball two days a week….although I am hurt right now…but I plan to be back out there soon!

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My Mom, Gina

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I love that I am patient, looking for the good instead of the negative.

I love my stubborn streak.

I love that I don’t mind being alone at times, not needy for constant motion or activity.

And I love that I can be forgiving of people and past experiences.

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And finally, me!

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(That’s me on the right, alongside my mom and sister.)

I love that I’m creative, and have become brave enough over the years to fully express that.

I love my sense of humor and constant curiosity.

I love that when I put my mind to something, I can truly accomplish anything. (Like run 1000 miles in one year and hike Mt. Whitney

I love that when I get to know someone, I fully dive in and look for even the littlest quirks about them. I also love that in doing so I can often find ways to make them feel special or known.

I love that I’m constantly learning, willing to grow from mistakes, and that at the end of the day, I always try to find the positive.

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I have to say, not only was it not too hard to find things that I loved about myself when I sat down and thought about it, it was even easier after my aunts and my mom did it. (Not to mention reading Alison’s post, which started this whole movement.)

On that note, if, after reading this, you (anyone, man or woman!) are feeling inspired and empowered to make your own list, please do! And if you feel comfortable, please share! Sit down and have some “me” time and rather than criticize, compliment! Love. Own.

Let’s keep this wave going forever and ever.

What Prison Break Reminded Me About Myself, Wentworth Miller & Everyone Else

This past month I’ve been watching Prison Break for the first time which, if you’ve ever seen it, you know by “watching” I mean barely leaving my room to participate in society. I’ve been totally consumed by the storyline and the characters and have had ongoing battles of turning my “I need to help the guys from Fox River stay out of trouble” brain off and turning my “I need to focus at work so I can make rent” brain on. One such character that has left me daydreaming, who has undoubtedly left most of the world in a similar state of mind since the show was first released 12 years ago, is Michael Scofield.

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Portrayed by British-American actor Wentworth Miller, Michael Scofield is the heart of Prison Break. It is his mastermind scheme that gets him purposefully arrested and sent to Fox River penitentiary to breakout his brother Lincoln, who was wrongly accused of murder and set to receive the death penalty. Over the five-season story—which I’m only on season 3 of so far, so no spoilers!—we learn about the conspiracy behind Lincoln’s arrest, we watch the exquisite detail of Michael’s plan unfold, and we bite our nails as we watch the aftermath of both.

Whenever I get heavily involved in a television show, I like to look up the associated actors and actresses so I can get a better idea of where they came from. So you can imagine it took me all of about 20 seconds to want to know everything about Wentworth Miller. But what started as a joyful, heart-eyed exploration of my new TV crush, quickly turned into an eyebrow furrowing discovery of heart wrenching facts and fictions.

I found a post from 2016 on his Facebook page addressing a meme that had been created in light of a paparazzi photo captured of him hiking. I read through articles discussing his battle with depression, attempts at suicide, and the long road he took to come to terms with his sexuality. Comments flooded every post, many of them positive, praising Miller for his honesty and his activism. I sat teary eyed, reading through the words of strangers, wondering how much they would have helped Miller or any of the millions of others who have struggled with self-acceptance, during a time when they believed suicide was a viable option.

I thought of myself who, at the age of 14, while not struggling with thoughts of suicide, made a list of things I needed to change about myself in order to be attractive, well liked, and ultimately, happy. Little did I know, self-love is not intrinsic on a set of terms and conditions. You don’t have to look a certain way, you don’t have to hold a certain opinion, you don’t have to hide the things that make you different.

As I read up on Wentworth Miller and learned about everything he’s been through, all the successes and failures, triumphs and struggles, I began to appreciate and relate to him on an entirely new level. For it is what he’s gone through that made him the perfect person to portray Michael Scofield. It is who he is at his core that gave him the ability to make the character resonate with audiences for years to come. Without the true Wentworth Miller, Michael Scofield doesn’t exist.

We as human beings are all characters that make up this thing called life. And when we aren’t true to those characters, when we try to change them or prevent them from being exactly who they are meant to be, we rid the world of what they have to offer and the world is worse because of it.

In the simplest sense, a world without uniqueness and originality is a world without any of us. It is a world without color or beauty or wonder. It is a world without love or inspiration or compassion. It is a world without Wentworth Miller or Michael Scofield, and if there’s one thing I know for sure, I never want to live in that world.