So I am working on finding value in me. I have already noted that nothing I ever do is good enough for me but I am going to stop being so self-critical and begin giving myself credit for the wonderfulness that is me. Rumi reminds me: "I remind you with these poems to dress in the flower of God's qualities, not your torn robe of self-accusation" (The Glance, 21). I want to take that robe off. I am also, according to my chart, highly spiritual and highly empathetic/sensitive/psychic. I am a nurturer. I care. We didn't get too far into the chart, actually. Much damage control to deal with. It's hard, mourning the loss of love for one's own self. Why can't I just love myself? How will I learn? More than anything I need to learn this, for Xavier. So he can grow up with a mother who truly loves herself, who has a strong sense of self-worth. How else we he believe in his own worth?
I decided to dance and be joyous as I dressed myself this morning. I was having fun but as I caught a glimpse of my body in the mirror I heard the all too familiar judgmental thoughts, mean cruel thoughts to myself about myself. I stood up for myself this time, stating things like, "Hey! That's not nice. Don't think that. I am beautiful, no matter what I say." Xavier and Meshon must have heard me. Meshon asked, "Are you arguing with someone?"
"With myself." I replied.
"What did yourself do to you mama?" My darling Xavier, so sweet.
"Myself was being mean to me." So I will work to silence the mean, judgmental self inhabiting my mind.
I share this perhaps too personal post because, I fear I am not alone in this. Self-loathing. A feeling of worthlessness. We end up living half-lives. I want to love myself enough to dream big, to live a huge and full life! I want to undress myself from this robe of self-accusation and self-judgment. If you feel the need to get naked, please get naked with me ;)
And finally, a poem from Rumi to inspire and enlighten:

Learn the alchemy true human beings
know: the moment you accept what
troubles you've been given, the door
will open. Welcome difficulty
as a familiar comrade. Joke with
torment brought by the Friend.
Sorrows are the rags of old clothes
and jackets that serve to cover,
then are taken off. That undressing,
and the naked body underneath, is
the sweetness that comes after grief. (65)
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