Journal Entry #101 - boy mike
Actions hurt words harm. I always thought that words didn't hurt - but when that man called us Faggot today it brought back memories from my childhood. I understand now how much harm these words do. It was the mean joke they told when they didn't realize I was in the back of the room. They were all laughing so hard they did not notice my presence. I was deflated and I slipped away without them ever knowing I was there. The comments and names from acquaintances stung but the ones that really hurt were from my classmates, my teachers, my friends or my family. I looked up to all of them so words from them pierced my heart. It was that 7th grade teacher who stood me up in front of the whole class and made fun of my spelling. The kids that year called me stupid, idiot & retarded. Still to this day I don't like being the center of attention - good or bad. I struggle everyday feeling that I am not smart enough as the word stupid echoes through my head. Being born gay I was teased all my life being called queer, fag or homo. Many times it was words but there were times that I was beaten up for something I had no control of. When my brother called me gay in the heat of the moment as part of an argument or fight it made me feel so small and made me ashamed of something that deep down inside I knew to be true. I can hardly remember the physical bullying - but those words / names come back to haunt me again & again often when I least expect it. The man who was supposed to support me the most ended up being my biggest bully. For my dad it wasn't the words or the beatings that I remember the most it was the silent treatment and the disapproving look in his eyes. We never really got a long - I think he knew I was gay long before I ever knew what it meant. When I came out to them at the age of twenty four, that is when communication between us pretty much ceased. If I came home to visit he would head downstairs - we were rarely in the same room. I only wanted to make him proud for him to love me like any father should. That acknowledgement came the day he died on the phone with my brother he said make sure you tell Mike I love him. Too many it was too late but to me it was enough - I love you dad. I cried myself to sleep many nights & sometimes still do. I felt isolated, alone, never really fitting in or that I was part of the team. I traveled to many places but never felt at home. I would often give up before I started trying as I didn't think I would be able to do it anyway. I finally learned to focus on the truly amazing people in my life. I now try to find little things that make me happy and include them in my journal like how your rode by on your motorcycle and waved to me at work or how you took the wedding cake that needed a little repair and with a few flowers made it a work of art. When I search for the good I believe that more positive energy is drawn to my life without even looking. I know now that I was born gay and it is completely natural and normal. I am not the only one and I have many talent amazing role models to look up to. I have learned to forgive as I realize that many of the bullies in my life were struggling too. I believe that the bully is also a victim who could use the same healing that I need. I have also learned to stop being so hard on myself to stop my own bulling and love who I am - who I have become. All my experiences have made me who I am today. I am kind & empathetic because I don't want to see other people hurt like I did. Life for me will always be a work in progress and I am ok with that. Please be kind and gentle with your words. I am getting tired so I am going to head to bed. Love you both so much, - boy mike. Where in the world do I begin? It's never easy to talk about your past, it's never easy to talk about your angst or your pain or even admitting something. I have depression. There. I said it. It's out there and I can not take it back. Sounds really scary and intimidating when you say to yourself or even to someone else that you have mental health issues. There are days that I have to remind myself that I am not flawed. I am not broken. When I spoke to Jen about doing a cheer session, I had a very specific colour in mind that I wanted to use. Black. I bet you're thinking, black!? But this is a CHEER session! That's OK, let me explain. Yes my paint colour of choice is black but I also used gold sparkles. The black represents the darkness, the anguish, the anxiety, the sadness and fear that I experience on a regular basis. Although I'm medicated, these feelings can still creep up on me but I know how to handle it better. The gold glitter and sparkles represent the light shining through the darkness. No matter how dark things get, you can find your light. You will sparkle and you will shine. When I spoke to Jen about my ideas, we were bouncing ideas left and right and we were getting more and more excited! When photo shoot day came, (please note, I'm about 7-8 hour drive from the studio) I was beyond excited. I loved the welcome sign at the door and it was such a welcoming feeling. I had my makeup beautifully done (thank you, Brooke) and it was time to be painted. I stood in front of Jen, topless with my arms stretched out. I remember the feeling of the first couple drops of paint landing on my skin and it felt like I was being baptized. Jen was so loving and supportive during the shoot. We shared so many laughs. The pictures turned out how I envisioned them. This is only a small portion of my story. Thank you for reading. Remember, those struggling with mental health issues are not broken. We are warriors. - Julia #endthestigma #mentalhealthmatters #understandmyjourney #cheersessions #ladyluckphotographystudio I’ve been struggling to find a way to illustrate how I feel. To bring what has been manifesting on the inside to the harsh light of the outside world. That’s when I discovered Lady Luck Photography. I saw their Cheer sessions advertised on social media and knew instantly that this was my chance. My chance to use the colors and textures of paint to show everyone just how much pain I’ve been in for so long. All the anxiety, the sadness, the anger, the despair. All hidden under a carefully constructed layer of superficiality and fake smiles. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been taking care of others. I was mom, wife, sister and once in a while, a daughter. Mental illness has been at the forefront of my life since I can remember. Whether it be my father dealing with his anxiety and self-loathing, or my brothers and their anxiety and depression. I always had to set myself and my issues on the back burner. Bury all my feelings deep enough that I could deal with everyone else around me and not be distracted by my own. This is how I’ve been conditioned to behave, to survive. It needs to stop. I’ve always been my harshest critic. Always so malicious, callous and cold. But it didn’t start with me. It started long ago, with a father who always thought I could do better, be better. I took on a role far beyond my years, adapting in ways I’d never wish upon anyone. Having to be an adult when you’re a kid forces you to grow up quickly, robbing you of your innocence and your chance to grow in a natural way. My biggest issue has always been wrestling with that voice in my head that tells me I’m not enough. Not a good enough daughter, student, sister, partner, worker, or person. It always seems that no matter what I accomplish or what I sacrifice for the sake of others, its never enough. And when you think you’ve finally done something right, that voice reminds you of all your shortcomings and breaks you back down again. That’s where my anxiety comes in. It claws its way into my chest, pressing down onto my lungs until it takes my breath away. Everything that I feel in that moment, sadness, emptiness, fear, anger and despair, makes me wish I could claw out my own heart and tear it to pieces. Because if I can’t feel, it won’t hurt, I can be at peace. I can be an empty shell littered with claw marks, slashes and tears of my own making. But at the same time, I want to feel. I want to feel all the pain and suffering I have experienced over my lifetime, because it reminds me that there are good times. There is happiness, the silver lining in the dark clouds that hang overhead. I want to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin again. But, in order to do that, I need everyone to see me. The real me.. That’s what I’m doing here today at Lady Luck. I’m peeling back all the layers I have so carefully constructed around all my imperfections, my anxiety, my lack of self-worth, my self-loathing. To show everyone, that behind the mask of someone who is in control, who always seems to have it together-is struggling. That underneath it all, I’m just a girl, fighting every day to keep herself together. So, have a look, see how I feel on the inside as I bring everything out to the surface for everyone to see. As you look at me, think of all the people you know who suffer from mental illness. Maybe even yourself. And imagine what the world would be like if everyone could see your pain reflected on your body like any other injury or disease. To be taken seriously when you tell someone you can’t go out tonight because you’re feeling anxious. To be understood when you tell your boss you need to take the day off because you’re feeling sick or you can’t get out of bed. Because even though they can’t see it the way you can, doesn’t mean it’s not real. Its time we bring all that inner pain, suffering, anger and anguish to the surface. To paint a realistic, raw and unedited picture of the truth of what it feels like to live with mental illness. To see the damage it wreaks on our bodies and minds, created by others and ourselves each and every day. Let’s shine a light into the darkest of places, and show everyone what living with a mental illness looks like. Bring the inside to the outside. Let’s end the stigma around mental illness. - Sarah Six years ago, I was left feeling completely alone in the world by the man I loved and my first roommate. I had left my family situation two years prier, I couldn’t go back. I felt my depression, social anxiety and agoraphobia take over. The PTSD from a past abusive relationship that had been dormant for three years came at me at full force. I was drowning. I felt completely abandoned. To be honest, I wanted my life to end. I even attempted a few times. I was completely lost. To be honest, I don’t remember what inspired me to start looking for a service dog. I suppose it was my last attempt to escape the life of painful solitude that I had seen play out before. I started looking up programs that trained service dogs, rescues and more. The prices were so much, the waiting lists were so long.. Everything felt hopeless. Then, a friends dog, Jaz, had a litter. Jaz had the perfect temperament, and I felt like the timing of her giving birth was fate. Soon after the pups were born, I went to meet them. All these squirming bodies, all so cute, so happy. But then our eyes met, the little black lab closest to her mother, watching and thinking. We went into the other room to get acquainted, the name “Zaina” popped into my head as I watched her explore so I called her. She turned and came right way, I knew then she was the one. The first little while together after she came home was interesting. I had never had a dog before and I was admittedly still fighting a very dark depression. Zaina was a quick learner though, house trained in a little over a week, answering to her name, sit, stay, even off leash training was going so smoothly despite it all being so new to both of us. I also noticed something else, she was reacting to my emotional spikes and lows and trying to find ways to assist me. Within Zaina’s first year I was in a very dark place, but she started teaching me how she could help. She remembered where we lived, places we had to go, even knowing what bus stop to get off at to go to my doctors (give or take a stop or two), making me look at her when I had anxiety spike in different levels, making me focus on her, interrupting nervous behaviors, guiding me out of buildings and situations that made me spike when I asked her to. I really cannot take credit for how amazing she is. Basically she did what had to be done, and I encouraged it. Zaina also got me into the dog park community with amazing people. I started walking dogs with gave me a never before felt sense of purpose and value. I was now part of something because of this sweet, smart puppy. Zaina opened my world up so much more than it had ever been before, just when I needed it most. Today, I still struggle with my mental health challenges, but I know that I have grown as a person more in the last 6 years than I every thought I could. My relationship with Zaina has shaped me into someone who has a little more faith in miracles, someone who is now seeing her own value, someone who wants to live. Zaina is my angel, and she saves my life. Every. Single. Day. - Julie I woke up this morning and after looking through Instagram and Facebook I found myself comparing myself to other people.
But the crazy part is I didn't even realize that I was doing it. I woke up in good spirits and then I as soon as I started flipping through my Instagram.. BAM! I started to doubt myself evaluate myself and like I said, compare myself. Because I didn't even know I was doing it, it had absorbed quite deeply before I even realized that I needed to stop. Social media can sure be awesome. It has led me to so many people who not only I have helped but they have helped me. But there's so many dark sides to social media. I have read so many memes about not comparing yourself to other people you see on social media. I kind of just brushed it away and didn't even think twice about it because I didn't think I did that. But apparently I do. Lady Luck is my life the body positive aspect, the mental health aspect, the helping people aspect but also the photography side of it is all, very important to me and it's what fuels my fire and I feel is the reason why I was put here on this Earth. So I'll just be honest, I found myself looking at other photographers from around the world, comparing my lighting, my studio and all these other things that they have that I don't...meanwhile just last night I was sitting on my computer editing saying to myself how thankful I was for the studio I have for the talent that I have and for everything that I've received along the way, to get to me to where I am today. How quickly can we start to slip into that black dark hole eh? It's Flippin nuts! One day you're soaring through the sky because you're feeling so good about yourself and what you do and then the next day you see one thing on the internet and it completely changes your mindset. This is why social media can be a negative thing. I guess it all depends on how you personally deal with it. So I end this ramble with this. It's okay if you find yourself comparing yourself to other people. Especially when you're using it to fuel your fire to work harder, to be better, and to drive you into positive spaces. BUT. It's not okay when you start to beat yourself up over it. When you start to look down on yourself because you're not as thin as that person or you don't have the material things that another person has. What matters is the balance. You can go down that hole.. They black creepy hold.. as long as you don't fall all the way in, sometimes the climbing up and out is what helps you get through and drives you to work even harder. And remember this. Be thankful for all the things you have. Be thankful for who you are, how far you've come and for everything you've worked hard for. After all the more thankful if you are for what you have, the more the universe will give you. Always do you, Jennifer Amazing photo by my super awesome boyfriend, who reminds me everyday that I am beautiful, and kick ass <3 David FB and Lucky 73 I was diagnosed with BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) over 10 years ago. When I was diagnosed I was told that I also had anxiety, PTSD, and suicidal ideology. I Was scared and didn’t know what my future would hold. I didn’t know what to make of all this or what to do. I was put onto meds and for the first month I was dealing with not only my symptoms of BPD but also the side effects of the medication. For a few years I was doing pretty good till about 2015 with the end of my marriage and the death of my father I began to go into a dark place. With having BPD your emotions are not regulated like someone without the illness. Your thought process is very different its either black or white there is no grey area. Your mind wanders and it goes either to good or bad and dwells there and convinces you of the good or the bad even though you know the reality of the situation. With me losing my job in early 2015 due to issues I’d rather not talk about I was able to leave Ontario and head to BC where my parents had moved to a few years before. My dad had been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and had requested not to go into a hospital. I moved out to help my mom take care of him at home. I went out in April and got things in order at their house to help him get around. I was out there for a bit and came home in June and less than two weeks later I was flying back out because he had gotten worse. I went out and helped with things where I could with doctor appointments and such. On August 9th of 2015 I gave my dad a shot of hydromorphone and he passed shortly after that. I still to this day struggle with the thought that in caused him to pass that day. In the last few years I have dealt with my BPD in non productive was such as self harm. One night I self harmed and because of the actions of a loved one I didn’t do anything worse. She had made the right call and made contact with the right people. I ended up with the police and an ambulance at my door and they took me to the hospital. I was released that night into the care of my mom and my fiancée who made the right call. The next few weeks were a struggle to find help that I knew I needed and it was very hard to get. I was actually laughed at by my doctor for requesting that he refer me to a psychiatrist. At that point I felt hopeless and alone. Eventually I got to see another doctor that was very helpful and concerned for my mental health. She referred me to the Bridge To Recovery program which is where they teach DBT. It took just over 3 months to get into the program which is to long for someone in crisis. During the wait I was also trying to figure out what meds would work for me. The doctor put me on seroquel at a low dose to start then we doubled the dose which did help quite a bit. Then they added in a new med called Abilify which was a nightmare for me. I ended up with severe panic attacks that I never had before. They were so bad I was unable to leave my house. I ended up talking to the doctor and we decided that I should stop that med. I did but to this day I still have residue panic attacks which can happen. I finally got into the therapy and did the course and because I knew I needed this I put alot into it. The combination of the meds and the therapy have helped me keep my BPD at bay but not all the time. I still have my dark times but they are not as as they have been which I am very thankful for. DBT does help but you have to be in the right mindset to get the benefits from it and understand how it works. I am glad that I did the therapy and try to use what they taught but it isn’t always easy to do so. I still sometimes let my emotions control me which I know isn't good. The last year or so I have embraced my BPD and have spoken to people that I have met and told them about my illness and helped them understand what it's like. I would just like the stigma of men’s mental health and mental health in general to stop. If you look at the stats of BPD it is very high for women and low for men but I would say it is about equal. Men should not be embarrassed to talk about their emotions or seek help if they are struggling, we are all human. Please seek help if you are struggling or talk to someone, let them know what is going on. I did and I’m glad that I got the help I needed and am here today to tell my story. Please help stop the stigma of mental health. #ImperfectlyPerfect Imperfectly Perfect. That’s the best way to describe myself. I’m imperfect, but I’m perfect at being me. I love myself. I don’t always like what I see, but I love myself, my curves, my imperfections, my jiggly bits, my whole self. It took years to be able to say that. It’s been a journey, strewn with setbacks, celebrations and a new “if you don’t like me that’s your problem, not mine” attitude. Some amazing people have helped, some not so amazing people have helped. Everything is a lesson if you look hard enough. Some lessons require a lot of soul searching and a willingness to accept your part in things. Fast forward to February 2015 (there’s another blog reflecting that experience) and I step into what I know call one of my happy places, Lady Luck Studio. Lots of laughs, trying on clothes and some full nudes later I made a dear friend and restarted my journey to #imperfectlyperfect. Another year, another photo shoot. I’m addicted. I love being in front of the camera. I want to do more, the bank account disagrees but I digress. This time I drag my best friend along. We laugh, we try on clothes, I have (surprise, surprise) less clothes on than her, but I’m more comfortable in my skin. More accepting of my flaws, more loving of my body. I want to rock those curves. I DO rock those curves! Another year, ANOTHER photo shoot. I want to do something different. Jennifer wants to try something different, something raw, something beautiful yet honest. She knows I’m game, whatever gets the word out of #imperfectlyperfect and helps people love themselves. We have fun, cheeky fun, lucky charms in the cleavage fun. Then comes the art. The beautifully flawed, imperfectly perfect, honest vulnerable pictures. One light, no clothes to hide my #imperfectlyperfect self. And I loved it. I rocked it. I embraced my curves, my tummy, my arms. I embraced every inch of myself and loved it. I love myself. I love my flaws, my imperfections. They are uniquely me. And if this can inspire one person to stop hating themselves even for a minute it’s worth it. In a world we’re we are taught what’s ugly, learning to love ourselves is seemingly impossible, or selfish or wrong. Media tells us what is “beautiful” and we see ourselves as ugly compared to that photoshopped version of the truth. Self care is neglected, and we are running on fumes trying to love and care for others. Be kind to yourself. Have the bad days. Be imperfect. Allow yourself to experience life not just live it. Take the chances, live each day to its fullest as tomorrow is never a guarantee. Love deeply, forgive others if not for them then for you. Anger is energy wasted. My journey to here was not easy, full of roadblocks, hurt, scars, near death experiencesand ultimately courage. My advice......take pictures of yourself and try not to hate yourself in them. Selfies, professional it doesn’t matter. Take that picture and love what you see, if only for a minute. Practice that loving yourself, embracing the pictures of you until you are proudly #imperfectlyperfect too. Those moments, when you have this incredible rush over your entire body and your brain and your being, of this unexplainable overpowering feeling of being thankful to be alive..
I just had one of those moments. I wish there was a way that I could bottle it up and save it for days when I am struggling and really need to remember how fucking amazing that feeling is. Hell if I could bottle it up I would give it away to everybody else who needs it too. But when you really sit down and think about it. We're all feeling this feeling at different times in our lives. I experienced it a minute ago, you might have experienced it 2 days ago and the next person might experience it 3 days from now. So let's really sit down and think about this. We are all busy human beings. We are all swamped with things that we need to do for our own lives. But just imagine those days when you're not feeling the best and you're having a rough go, imagine if your friend or your family member decided to reach out to you because they're having a good day, and do something even as little as tell you that they love you (which is actually a pretty big thing), or give you a phone call to check in to see how you are.. These things can potentially change your entire day (and life) So if everyone of us, when we're having a good day, reached out to somebody who may not be having a good day, wouldn't that make the world a better place? I know I've talked about this a lot, the things that can make this world a better place, but I feel it honestly truly doesn't hurt anything if I just keep putting it out there.. so that's exactly what I'm going to do. One more thing, I'm not perfect. As I sit here and I drop all of these words out of my mouth, I'm realizing that I too need to take my own advice and put more effort into doing exactly what I just said. But that's the thing we're not perfect. If our intentions are pure and if our intentions are good and meant for the better, then honestly that is your first big step towards the goal of being a better person. Voice-to-text activate! Jen has the urge to ramble again! Heck if my ramblings help at least one person then it's definitely worth it! 💙😘 Way back, close to 15 years ago, I experienced something that knocked me off my feet. And I don't mean knocked me off my feet in a good way. Not a good way at all. I experienced, for the first time, depression. I didn't know what the hell was wrong with me. Was this normal? Did everybody feel like this? Am I going to survive this? Depression consumed me. It grabbed a hold of me and said Jen, I own you. And you have no say in the matter at all. I'm going to make people think that you're crazy I'm going to make people think that you are not normal and I'm going to make people think that you are not someone they want to be with. Even worse yet, I'm going to make you not like yourself. I'm going to make you want to curl up in a ball and cry. Cry all day. I'm going to make you second-guess everything that's ever happened to you and everything that you're doing. I'm going to make you hate yourself. I'll be honest, I have no idea how I'm even writing this right now. Because depression and anxiety has done so many terrible things to me. So many things that I honestly can't even fathom how the heck I'm going to provide you with examples of things that it has done to me in the past. Let's Flash Forward to now. Thank God now there are many resources and Facilities that are there for people who are struggling with different mental health struggles. Thank goodness that now it has finally had a light shined on it. Thank God now the word stigma has a solid meaning for the majority of us in this world. Thank God it is now easier to talk about your mental health. Because of my personal Journey with my mental health struggles, I have vowed to do whatever I can possible to help other people. It is hard when you have anxiety and depression or any other mental health struggle to take care of OTHER people AND take care of yourself. It's possible. Because honestly, helping other people, when I'm able, helps me and helps me heal and helps with my recovery. I've developed a new package that I'm going to be releasing in the next little while that is going to provide a means for people to use my photography as a form of therapy, to help them with their own, personal mental health struggle. About a month ago I was emailed by a beautiful woman that I haven't had the honor of meeting in person yet, asking if I would be a panelists at a conference that I have been admiring for a few years. Jenn Wallace is the Founder and creator of GWEn Inspire - A Full Day Event! The other day I finally had the pleasure of meeting her in person. Talking to her, felt like talking to somebody I've known for years! We talked about the event and of course Mental Health. I'm completely honored to be a part of GWEn! Last fall I spoke at a the Niagara Leadership Summit For Women 2018 at Brock University and it literally changed my life. It gave me one BIG step up towards my ultimate goal of recovering from PTSD. I am so looking forward to GWEn, next week, and I hope to see some of my friends there! All of this stuff that we're doing is all to help end the stigma surrounding Mental Health. It's so very important! http://gwenconference.com I started my weight loss journey long before I signed up for surgery. That journey has been going on almost as long as “Don't Stop Believin'” has been over-played and over-sung – because I was born in the early 80's! Get it? Ha! I have been that typical yo-yo dieter for most of my life. I can always lose about 30-50 pounds on my own and then I put it all back and then some. I've done some crazy diets over the years, like the cabbage soup one and this one where you could only have one type of food per day – protein on Tuesday and veggies on Thursday, that kind of thing. I did the big ones – Weight Watchers, good ol' diet and exercise – even a weight loss pill that is now off of the market because a lot of the patients that took it, well... They died. I went through the typical years of self loathing and self hate, worried about what other people thought of me, shrinking into myself in public, sitting in pain to try to avoid taking up space in this world. I was always wanting to weigh a certain amount, look a certain way be who I'm “supposed” to be. I suffered years of abuse from those in my life whom I trusted to love me but over the recent years I have learned to distance myself from those who made me feel less than, and it's incredible what happens when you can make those changes. The pre-op process for the surgery is intense! I have had to go for a lot of appointments, blood work, a gastroscopy, ultrasounds, two sleep studies, and the list goes on and on. So far, the most formative appointment was the short time I spent with the psychotherapist to pass my psychiatric evaluation. I have certainly struggled in the past with some mental health disorders; post partum depression and post partum OCD both combined lead me to have a three week stint in a locked in-patient psychiatric hospital – so I have seen my fair share of psych professionals. This was a different beast though. Ultimately I did get cleared by the psychotherapist but it did bring up some of my crazy feelings around food and body image, particularly when she asked if I had any troubled personal relationships or any relationships that breed negative connotations surrounding food and body image. The conversation went a bit like this: Me: “Do you mean if my mom... Well she photoshopped me to make me look skinny before she put pictures of me on her social media...” Her: “Really?” Me: “Yeah. I mean, at least she's bad at photo editing and so it is pretty hilarious!" Her: “Would you say that you use humor to mask your pain?" Me: "You bet your ass I do.” Going into this whole process I have maintained a positive outlook and have enjoyed every part of the process as a part of the ride, however, this little shadow of doubt started poking into the back of my mind. Not doubt related to my decision making, but doubt in that self love I've spent the last 33 years developing. Everyone in my life is so positive about the surgery, so happy I've made this decision, so happy that I'll finally be smaller... I am thankful for the show of support, but I started thinking “is there something wrong with me now?” Now that I have finally gotten to the point of loving my body for the hugs it has given and received, the lives it has helped save throughout my career, the times my body almost failed me and then came back from the brink. My body has made a very cool mini-human, and it has rebounded from the times it couldn't quite finish making other ones. My body has been broken and bruised and depressed. My body has gotten me through every bad day I've ever had and has been there to celebrate all of the good times my privileged life has had to offer. No, there is nothing wrong with me now and I refuse to believe that there is. Yes, I want to make a change and work to be a healthier, less pained version of myself, but this body is also a lot of who I am. Every formative experience in my life has been in this body and I need to honor that journey. When I get to my weight loss “after” I don't want to look back at myself in a negative light. I do not want to look back to see sad, dreary “I hate myself” before pictures, because I don't. I am beautiful now, I will be beautiful in the future and despite what I have been told I have always been beautiful. I am not perfect, I have made mistakes and I am certain that I will continue to make many mistakes into the future. There are times when I could be a better friend, a better mother, spouse, nurse, employee, co-worker, boss, daughter... I dear say that imperfections highlight beauty instead of darkening it though, because in my experience it's not about being perfect, it's about seeing the problematic imperfections, acknowledging that they exist and working to improve into the future. After all, to err is human, and that's what we are. Catch you on the flip side, Elise |
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