Learning to Love Myself
I have always known that I’m quite amazing. Does that sound egocentric? Just kidding. I know it does.
I’ve always been confident. I’ve always known my strengths. And I’ve been criticized for being too self-impressed.
But I am impressed with myself. I’ve overcome a lot. I’ve achieved a lot. I know my work makes a difference.
I also know that I love people. I genuinely love and care about others. The funny thing is that for the longest time I didn’t realize that I didn’t really love myself.
I didn’t love myself as much as I loved others anyway. I always put myself last. I always said “I can help” or “I could be good for that person.”
I actually thought that made me even more impressive. I managed to walk around a contradiction between “I’m amazing” and “other people matter more than I do.”
I have fancy language for all of this now. But I won’t go into it. All that matters is that I learn to love myself.
It’s not enough to be impressed by myself. I must love myself and care for myself. I might even put myself first sometimes–because sometimes you just have to.
Love matters. And I’m going to love myself more than anyone else. Because I am always with me; and that relationship matters too.
Maybe I can help myself. Maybe I could be good for me. And I can still be pretty damn impressive.
I’m going to make mistakes sometimes.
I might even lose my way.
But I keep going.
I’m going to fail sometimes.
I might even cry.
But I keep trying.
I’m going to fall sometimes.
I might even hurt.
But I keep rising.
I’m going to be scared sometimes.
I might even falter.
But I keep singing.
This is my soul song, and mine alone. And it must be sung.
I can be good for you.
I will try to bring out the best in you.
Will you bring out the best in me?
This Is Life
She said she wished she had her life back.
But this is your life, I said.
So make the most of it.
That’s all we can do.
And it’s enough to create genuine joy.
A Woman on the Move
Motion, movement, momentum, muscle memory… I am a woman on the move. I’ve always been active and more than a bit competitive. I’m driven. But I’m fearful too.
The first time I lost my momentum, I was twelve. I was in sixth grade and I dropped to floor one night in December with intense vertigo. I spent the next several months on my back, getting scans, visiting doctors and psychologists about the dizzying numbness and intense fatigue that had hit and seemed wouldn’t leave. Everything was inconclusive.
The words Multiple Sclerosis now explain that strange period and the others that followed, giving a name to the fear of lost motion, a break in my stride. A woman known for her purposeful walk, her powerful swift pace, her high energy– who would I be if those were no longer mine?
I would still be funny and kind. I would still be loving and loved. I would still be Sarah Josephine. I know that. But Sarah Josephine would change just enough to make me uncomfortable. I want to keep moving.
So I do. I cannot control the future but I can choose my path. I can influence my surroundings. I can accept and embrace the journey and all its obstacles and opportunities.
I am a woman on the move. And I keep on moving because I can, with faith in every footstep and gratitude in every breath.