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“Ring the bells that still can ring.
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack in everything.
That’s how the light gets in.”
~ Leonard Cohen

can hardly scrape myself off the sheets in the morning.
sometimes i want to go to sleep and never wake up.
i can’t do this anymore.
it hurts so bad.
what’s the matter with me?
snap out of it.
ugh.. i hate this about myself…
why can’t this be easier?
what am i doing wrong?
why does everyone else have a better life than me?
why does it come easier for them?
i hate my life.
i’m such a failure.
how can anyone like me?
what if i never feel better?
why can’t i make this go away?
how much lower can i get?
i feel so bad.
i’m such a blubbering idiot.
i’m a fucking stupid bag of snot.
get over it.
move on.
get a fucking life.
i hate you!

am i reading your mind?
is there a tiny piece of you that can relate?
how did I know?

i’ve said all to myself at one time or another.
NEVER. now.

you don’t have to live this way.
it doesn’t have to hurt this bad.
recovery is possible.
your brain can be rewired.
i’m living proof.

there is this fallacy inside some of us – that we are broken.
beyond repair.
undeserving.
shameful.
we keep secrets.
for fear that if anyone ever saw our broken parts they would deem us unlovable. (we do that before anyone else has a chance.)

you don’t have to stay broken.
you can tenderly stitch up the parts that hang loose.
fill and smooth love into the cracks.

at the risk of sounding cliche
it must come from within you.

you need to parent your own soul.
love the shit out of the wounded parts of you.
pony up and be willing to reclaim your heart and soul.
deem yourself loveable and take action to prove it.
(this will mean erasing and rewriting those shitty beliefs you adopted from childhood. hate it if you want to, but my life changed when I saved my inner child.)

sure it felt crappy to look at all that old baggage.
feel unreasonable hurts. think of all the ways i’ve hurt someone else.
let someone else hurt me. i was a child. i didn’t know the difference.
i had no choice. i had no option but to endure. assume my worth.
collect useless, inaccurate messages that polluted my heart, and made my spirit sick. i absorbed and adopted beliefs that kept me from growing, from feeling lovable. from feeling love.

i sought reassurance.
tell me you love me.
i wanted someone to tell me i was enough.
i was valuable.
i was smart.
i was capable.
i was deserving.
someone. love. me?

but no one ever could say it right.
i didn’t believe it.
i couldn’t accept it.
i created havoc. disruption. pain. addiction. self abuse.

in the end, it was my child’s broken heart that cracked me open to the light. she was repeating all my lines.
i wanted healing for her. i wanted her to love her self enough to live.

i wanted to love myself.
i was tired of hating myself.
fighting inside day. and night.

i was so tired of feeling broken, that the only thing left to do was 
bend down and pick up all the pieces
look at each one
cry over them
and gently
and lovingly
love
them
back
together.

me.
whole.

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