It really doesn’t matter what I write here.
If you haven’t noticed, I can peddle self love in my fucking sleep. My friend sells solar power and I sell self-worth (it’s free, by the way). And I whole heartedly believe it what I sell. The only paycheck I receive is when people tell me how they changed their ways of thinking about themselves and were inspired by something I wrote. But sometimes I sit with the harsh reality that none of it can matter if it’s not true for myself. No matter how many times they are reposted or liked or if they even resonate at all, none of it matters if I can’t look myself in the mirror and say nice and productive things to myself.
It’s the words whispered in loneliness, or just echoed in my head, that really matter. I know good and well how to pick myself up off the floor and carry myself into the world, head high and unassuming. It doesn’t matter if I’m quietly hating on myself, because that will always show up in how I treat my body.
There are a million ways to harm yourself and in various measures. Self talk is one of them and damn near the most important. Because if you can’t believe that you deserve love, and health and prosperity than none of those things will ever be yours.
This is something I constantly struggle with, like all things, it’s a process of overcoming and washing over. In a conscious control of thoughts, a pushing and pulling of abusive, intrusive words as well as supportive and loving emotions.
Today there is no room for that self-sabotage bullshit and as always the cards never lie. Today I pull Five of Swords, which, in tarot talk, pops up when you’ve successfully attempted to harm and abuse yourself either consciously or subconsciously and it’s time to pull yourself out and away.
Time to fight fire with fire and ferociously love thyself until you can figure out how to get out of this funk.