So we have started in-home therapy and WOW. It’s like my life is written on a page and this person comes in with a highlighter and spotlights the most difficult parts . . . the parts I’m doing all wrong, ya know. I am also hearing the parts I’m doing SO right. As a trained human, though, I focus mostly on the parts that aren’t as pretty as “someone else might do them.” Oh, that’s such crap.
I’m psyched about the therapy, though, please know this. It feels healthy. It feels hopeful. And oh my good gracious, it feels vulnerable to no end.
I’m sick to my stomach right now from eating an entire bar of chocolate and snacking on a few more pieces after today’s visit. I’m trying to just drink water from here on out this evening . . . we’ll see if I can cleanse my body and my emotional tank of self-judgment and toxins. I’m going to try to add in: I am clean! I am powerful! I am healthy! My kids are going to be just fine! I am going to be just fine! My cellulite is beautiful! (Fake it till you feel it, right?)