There is a story behind every apology, but if the story will negate the truth of the apology because it comes across as excuses, then should it really be given?
... next time you have the inspiration to create/write/paint/say something but don’t -- because you feel like you’re not good enough, not worthy enough, not experienced enough, not consistent enough, not perfect enough -- do it anyway.
A cloak of guilt hangs down upon my shoulders, heavy and dark; it is a constant reminder. Clouds of sadness and regret hide in every corner, ready to pounce and diminish joy, or push tears to the surface at inappropriate and inopportune times. Must every activity for the remainder of my life be ...
I must have known before I was born that I am light. I am love and beauty, truth, and wisdom. I must have known. But I forgot. I forgot sometime when I was forming this human body shape in my mother’s womb. My mother who had so much anxiety and fear and insecurity of who she is and where she ...
My healing process has been mysteriously intertwined with learning to knit... Sometimes the material we have in hand is not the most beautiful or refined. It might not be what we would have chosen had we had the choice. But we can work with what we are given. The pieces that make up the whole ...
But, the only things that we definitely know are: Are we staying true to ourselves there? Are we feeling more empowered with, or without, our partner? The answers to these questions are our final answer. Sometimes, the wisest thing to do is to accept the picture, and take our hearts out of a ...
Love is not about possession. Beauty cannot be captured. I've been entranced by this idea of immortalizing the fleeting moments of joy in my life, but the pursuit of holding them has made me seasick, and nauseated with the butterflies of truth swimming inside me.
When it comes to beating depression over the long-term, this is what makes exercise more powerful than medication. It’s not that medication doesn’t work -- it does. But exercise does something that medication doesn’t. It proves a new identity to yourself.
... instead of speaking her truth she stuffed it back down deep down inside she couldn't bear it knowing they were wrong about her
about who she really was...
Have I become so comfortable in my discomfort, so accustomed to dying in my daily living, that I now embody a midnight mask to replace the false cheeriness of my childhood's plight? And what if I am not either or, but both, strands of black and gold that weave the web of my spider's heart?