All my self talk has been negative lately.
You know, that track that whisper talks all the ugliest parts of you. It’s been stuck, and it’s keeping me quiet.
I’ve tried talking to my friends. I can feel their loving concern, but it comes coated with judgement. “You should be doing better. Why are you stuck again?” (This is not true. Sorry friends. Even if were, though, the love is the important part of it.)
I’m terrified to lose the handful of things that feel good. I hate holidays and how I end up feeling isolated and weird. I’m angry and sad. But these feelings aren’t permanent. And I accept them too.
I started reading the Elena Ferrante book, My Brilliant Friend, and it’s stirring up feelings. Longing. Nostalgia for Italy. Parts of me that I let fall away.
It’s not been a great week, but I’m going to put it behind me. Take a shower and read more. And write a love letter to myself.
And I’ll post that.