This is how you get through the week leading up to the day you turn 29 and come one step closer to the big 3-0.
I was a 28 year old, sexually aware feminist that loved her breasts and hadn’t touched them in months because of the diagnosis of my mother.
Man, I wish you were still here. There is so much I have to ask you about what to do from this point on. Maybe it was meant to be like this. Did you want me to write more?
You are not responsible for other people’s bad days.
A lot of this is, I believe, about knowing our own worth. What do we deserve?
When someone says you are beautiful, believe it. When someone tells you that you succeeded at work or in some other endeavor, believe it. None of the “No, no, it wasn’t that good” or any of the other nonsense I hear women say.
We need to be aware of what is hurting us and what is growing us. Sometimes we have to decide that it is okay to walk away for a while. This is not an excuse, this is being an adult and figuring out what works.
We are so scared to go back to scary feelings that we avoid them and stop living life how it should be lived: with reckless abandonment.
Honor the people who have seen you at your worst. Year after year.