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To all of the kind, empathetic, nurturing, loving humans who’ve been told they’re not enough.
You’re not pretty enough, not handsome enough, not sexy enough, not smart enough, not skinny enough, not interesting enough, or not communicative enough. Somewhere along the way, you took it as truth. You believed it.
To those who feel a real, loving, and functional connection has become strange, foreign, uncomfortable, or nonexistent. You’re afraid, you’re anxious, you’re depressed, you’ve lost your voice. It’s okay, Honey.
Your body aches, your mind scatters, you haven’t slept, you feel sick. I know, Sweetheart.
To those who feel they’re in the bottom of the ninth inning. You’ve got this, Babe.
To those who’ve been beaten, those wounds are not yours to hold. Wounds that started subtly, but now scream to own your heart and mind. They don’t own you. They are lies. They originate from a place of inadequacy. They have absolutely nothing to do with you.
Why does everyone else love this person? It must be me. It’s not. Shallow connections come easily to those who don’t really know others, who never have to meet their expectations or occupy their space. They’re game-face experts, players with years of practice who’ve mastered striking people out. Maybe this is your first ball game, second, or third. It doesn’t matter. It’s not your game. You were an easy out. They were professionals, trained to target your sweet, caring nature. Take off the glove babe, you don’t even like baseball.
Maybe you’ve been catching pitches all your life. Maybe the game started when you were young, easily influenced, unsure of your boundaries, strolling obliviously onto the field without protective gear. Innocent and naive, you lacked understanding. Nobody warned you that hurt people manage their pain by hurting others. They think it makes it go away. It doesn’t. So they keep throwing pitches. Throwing punches. Throwing words. Whatever—their game is not your game.
The only voice you listen to from this point forward is your own. Speak and hear your own loving truth. Not the voice of fear, full of doubt and uncomfortable with the unknown, the loving voice that says I can, that says I am. Whether you know it or not. You can. You are. You have begun.
They’re the ball and you’re the glove. Their slow curves turn into fastballs. Their pitch hits your glove perfectly, an undiscovered pocket where love should be. Your love.
Maybe you’ve been down this road before. Maybe it’s worse this time. Surely it must be your fault. It’s not. However, you have great responsibility. You have great power. You don’t know it yet. Babe, it’s there. I see it.
Sometimes it takes faith, trust in the universe, intuition, and listening to your inner voice for guidance to remove yourself from these situations. Only you can do it. Only you can begin.
People see it. Your kids see it. Your family sees it. Your friends see it. You aren’t hiding from anything except yourself. You may not have all the answers or any of them. It’s okay, Beautiful.
Whether you call it the Universe, God, or a higher power, it knows; it wants you to love yourself, so it can love you more than you can imagine. Love you back to health. Magic happens when you love yourself unconditionally; there is no other way to be loved.
I know you’re tired and full of doubt. I know. Let this be your sign. Let it clear the doubt, dispel the fear, and open your way.
Say these things. Maybe silently at first. Say them looking yourself straight in the eyes like your life depends on it. It does.
>> I am love
>> I am beautiful
>> I am worthy
>> I take nothing personally
>> I don’t owe anyone anything
>> I am free
Your higher power is asking you to clear your mind of fear and distractions, start loving you without conditions, beyond the noise of the inner critic, beyond the noise of the crowd. What is the most loving thing you can do for yourself? Begin with examining your thoughts. Let go of what is not loving or kind. When the veil of lies begins to lift, love and truth will shine and light the way.
You’ve been dying to say it, but the words stick in your throat. You feel suffocated. You can’t breathe. Unbearable weight crushes your shoulders. I’ve felt it too. Begin with one no. If you can’t say it out loud, say it quietly to yourself. When you say no to what’s not loving, you begin saying yes to loving yourself. With practice, your voice will grow. Just begin quietly.
Only you can walk through the dark tunnel of self-loathing and hatred. Only you can begin to heal your wounds from playing the game. If you love yourself, it doesn’t matter who likes you. Only you can uncover your awareness of the love you can give yourself. It was there all along.
If you look into the stands, there’s always someone cheering you on. More are on the way. They’re your tribe. They love you. How could they not? You are love itself.
When you get to the other side, you’ll never look at the game the same way again. You walk on, step by step. You’re kinder, more gentle, and loving with yourself. You begin to feel the sun on your face, smell the rain, dance to the music, and sing your heart out. You begin to enjoy life again. Your heart will begin to open. Imaginary walls will fade. You’ll trust in the uncertain magic of new beginnings.
The game is just an experience you needed to learn. An experience that gifted the lesson of learning to love yourself. The game no longer interests or fascinates. You don’t need or want to it play again—on any field of life.
It’s a new day. It’s time for a new experience and path. A healthy one. A loving one. A functional one. Love be with you. Love, be you. Do not try to be some idea of “perfect.” If you have love in your heart and infuse love into your thoughts and actions, trust me when I say—Perfect should try to be you.
It’s the bottom of the ninth, Babe. You’ve got this.
Breathe.
Game over.
She Sang to Me
My beautiful child, she said
Don’t you see?
You’re perfectly amazing
Inside every one of your flaws
The inspired creation
Of my every wonder, and awe
You are Now awake
So rest now, sweet Dear
I’m holding you gently
You’ve got nothing to fear
~
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