Coming alive
I never realized how much I hated myself until I had to look at my picture of my 3 year old self and tell her how much I loved her. To tell her all the things I wish I had heard at that age, in that very moment, of whatever moment of life I was going through. To calm her fears, to tell her she was beautiful, to kiss her boo boo or to explain to her that life wasn't actually fair. Whatever it was that had caused me to think otherwise, I now had to look my 3 year old self in the eyes and tell her that it was okay. That I loved her. That she had been loved and that I could now release and let go of all of the hurt that was caused at that time. The cause was not necessarily important. Healing that moment, time, age of life most definitely was. I thought of how many times I had told my little 3 year old boy how much I loved him, how much I loved his sweet little cheeks and wanted to just wrap him up and squeeze him, hold him and squish his cute little cheeks. ...