Labor of Love

“You are strong, but even the strongest people need help sometimes.”

“I need to accept that I am who I am. I struggle with mental illness. I feel deeply. I wrestle. I cry. I win and I lose. And all of that is OK. I am human. I can quickly accept others and their struggles, so why should I not extend that same acceptance to myself?”

“There is nothing braver than fighting an invisible war within yourself. If we can survive those moments when the monsters grow exponentially and the pain feels insurmountable and the fear is more real than your own reflection, we can win. We will win.”

“There will always be someone who can’t see your worth. Don’t let it be you.”

“She told me once that she liked mornings. The small window of time at sunrise brought her a short reprieve of calm and clarity, before her anxiety really got rolling for the day. She said that she felt like herself in those moments at dawn, and for awhile, I think she was living for those moments.”

“Talk to yourself like you would to someone you love.”

Today I will lay on the floor with my arms out. Palms spread. Toes pointed. Somewhere along the way I forgot how to take up space, but I am slowly stretching out again.  I am allowed to exist at my fullest, and if I do not fit in you, I will find somewhere I do.

Experiencing an entire day without a mild level of anxiety has become a rare occurrence. Ignited by the slightest thought—whether I’m comparing my success to someone else’s, or simply checking the time as I rush off to work in a hurry—somehow, something always manages to creep in and take over.