FIND your

A Self Love Diary

    The last guest to arrive

    11 pm. Everyone in the house asleep, except for me. And so, my anxiety invites herself into the room to keep me company. She takes what was the air and makes it into her pool. She does laps around the room and I hold my breath, submerged, paralyzed, at her whim. My anxiety is clever. She likes to play dress up. Sometimes she shows up disguised as spiders. Other times a man in the corner of the room. I'm asleep. I'm awake. I'm somewhere in between. She is with me everywhere. 

    I see her. I don't mean figuratively. She manifests herself and does whatever it takes to get my attention. She is screaming. "There's something going on. You're feeling something. You're uncomfortable about something. Please. Know yourself. Figure out what's wrong. Do something about it. Let me go." Because my anxiety, she doesn't want to be there either. Who wants to be the guest that's only invited when the party is over? She is the messenger. I do my best to embrace her (and in turn, fully embrace myself). Thank you anxiety. Thank you ME. 

    Soul Song

    I breathe

    My soul song slips into the room lingering

    On my elation.

    I let go

    And let in

    The enigmatic with open arms.

    I sleep

    And dream of moments like this one

    Where all is light and life is letting

    Me embrace



    I self impose amnesia

    To relieve myself of you.

    To make my way forward

    Without remembering a thing

    About you

    About us.


    But you can’t be forgotten: you existed, you still exist.

    And despite my pain, I’m still here, intact.

    More intact in fact than when you were here.


    So instead of forgetting,

    I must push myself to remember us honestly.

    Because honestly, you did not honor my ME.

    And when we were together, neither did I.

    So I choose to remember.



    There was a time, that my ME was drunk on obsession.

    Replaying old stories on repeat, until I shamed or blamed myself into oblivion.

    Starving myself of food and love and self acceptance.

    Consuming myself with judgment - from others, from myself.

    All the things that could have been done better.

    The body parts that should look better. Function better.

    The milestones that remain out of reach.

    The mistakes, the mistakes, the mistakes.

    My ME was high on these regrets. The insufficiency. The dreams deferred.

    But now my ME is sober.

    My ME creates space for the unknown.

    She can remember the past without being defined by it.

    She can manifest the future without being tied to it.

    She is present.

    She is peaceful.

    She is powerful.

    In bloom

    All the parts I locked away and neglected

    Are opening.

    I reveal myself to myself,

    And revel in myself.

    Turns out I am not a tight bud desperately trying to keep it all together.

    I am an open blossom who is ready to let it all go,

    And take it all in.

    Feeling It

    All the ways

    We try to avoid our pain

    When the only way through

    Is to feel it.

    My ME reminds me to feel.

    Self Love Queen

    I feel

    Like a Queen

    Living luxuriously

    Draped in a cloak

    Lined with my hope

    And adorned with my love


    View from the top

    I’ve put you a hill…

    More like a mountain.

    I’ve surrounded you with gardens and light

    That in the distance shimmering…

    Compel me to climb.

    I climb this woman-made incline

    This pedestal

    Fueled by the hope…

    Of one day reaching you


    And yet,

    The closer I get

    The more I see

    The more I realize

    Each garden a mirage

    Created by my love, so determined to find a place

    To plant and grow


    I reach you

    Atop my own personal Mt. Olympus

    And you stand

    And I stand

    And I, no longer craning my neck,

    Trying to distinguish your glory from the clouds…

    Realize that sometimes

    Mountains are really hills

    And hills are really plains…

    And the view is not always the best

    From the top.


    Love and loss

    Where does lost love go? Does it linger… a shadow on one’s heart that forever changes all future love? Does it burn away… inconsequential, forgotten? When a love is lost, abruptly cut short, can it still grow? Does it fill one’s heart and give her strength to continue, or is it a vacancy that swallows you whole?

    When I honor my ME, my love is constant. Even when love with another shifts away, love for myself remains. In periods of loss, my ME holds me steady. 

    The Beginning

    I feel it. The change I've been secretly hoping for, praying for, desperate for, I feel it. I've been in slow motion. That rut I fall into where I let my inspiration float away, dissipate, and seemingly die. But it didn't die. I am still here. That inspired person is who I am. It has merely been nesting, hibernating, waiting for me to realize that with each tick tock or click click every single important thing to me was receding, disappearing.

    I am going to reclaim my life. I am going to work hard, and live. Make every second about happiness, fulfillment, potential realized. I'm going to be ME again.