In recent weeks I have given careful thought to deliver the messages I. Writing is something I take very seriously. And it is important to me that my attention and my words on the things that really matter to me.
I have plenty of writing in a journal since the age of twelve years. I kept most of my writings are private. When I was in my early thirties, I read some of my early youthful effusions. At the time I did not fully understand that I couldto choose to be compassionate and caring to my former self. Instead, I considered myself fully and convicted. Here are some examples of the thoughts that went through my mind are when I read what was written to my younger self.
What a fool I am!
How pathetic!
I was so sad and lonely and unhappy!
I do not remember this!
How ridiculous that I wrote it for anything.
And not in a magazine, but year after year, page by page.
I was not onlyCriticism of my feelings. I also judge for me to write about it. I could not bare to face, how sad I had once been. Really, I'm having trouble accepting that I once had the sad teenager was still alive was in me hopes still searching for acceptance, nor understood, accepted still waiting to be loved. Instead of me with understanding and compassion, I tried to wipe out my words and my feelings. These judgments, directed against myself the shame generatedme is this, what I did. I took a big of magazines from my teenage years, I stack and burned.
Now, many years later, one might ask, what has changed? Today, my magazines in a beautiful wooden box. I feel warm and friendly when I open the lid and look at the stack of fabric and leather-bound books. I appreciate the physical representation of one's own self-realization. The truth is, I rarely check what I previously wrote. I have little desire to re-the past, but I stillreceive tremendous joy to know they are there. Today I am most excited that I just write. I know that today provide the words and thoughts today, that my future. It is good to know how far I've come. My past magazines are a testament to my passion for living life fully. I celebrate her and the many different parts of me that were in them.
Today, I am committed to self-esteem. That is, I choose to embrace all aspects of me. I comfort theParts of me that I am sad. I embrace the parts of me that frustration. I decide, the dreamer, the lover and the mystical parts of honor from me. And I catch myself, if I as an un-loving. I'm turning on all remaining negative self-commitment to genuine self-love.
Earlier this year I have a self-esteem Journal. Every night before I sleep, I reflect on the day. I wonder how I cherished and I will write them down. Writing in this magazine that provides me with somethe most precious moments of my days.
In my view, the public offering, I take another leap. Some people enjoy, and even longing for self-exposure. That's never been my comfort zone. I know you have judgmental thoughts as I do. During my early years that I cared what you thought about me so much that I felt paralyzed. Now I do not care not nearly as much. I know you will some of what I write, will find interesting and useful. I also know some of what I write will not beInterest to you all.
To go to the public my thoughts and feelings that I needed for my own fear of rejection and ridicule face. I asked my willingness to betray my core values, to share my personal experiences and to open my own insecurities and weaknesses. I had to give up, starving your permission, and I had to share my own perfectionism. And I'm really the author of my own life. I will continue to do so. And while I intend to maintain my private lifeJournal-writing practice, I will continue sharing my point of view as well as publicly.
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