I wake up in the morning with a lump in my throat and a tightness in my chest, not knowing why. I see my face in the bathroom mirror and remember that I fell asleep crying last night, that's why my eyes are so red... and sad.
Sometimes I feel like my pain is the worst there is.
Sometimes I look around and it seems to me that no one sees, or if they do, they don't understand how I hurt there, inside. Sometimes I forget...
I forget that life is about lessons to be learned. Lessons that don't come written in books that have colorful covers or motivational titles. Life just is. And that's it.
Life goes on, that’s the beauty of it. Even when we’re gone, life goes on.
And then... I realized I had no choice but to let it hurt. Let it press into my chest.
I’ll have to let the feelings run free, even if it means no sleep until the morning comes, when I finally understand the lesson behind it.
We, if we call ourselves human, lose ourselves in the turmoil of days and we tend to distance ourselves from the very thing that makes us human.
To be human is to have love, create love, and feel love. Love comes from everything, and everything comes from love.
From love derives beauty, in all its forms, in all places, in all contexts. From love comes health, because you get sick precisely when you forget to love. From love comes empathy, which gives you the courage to leave something behind you when you are gone, not in the form you know now. From love comes the ambition to reach success, no matter what your success means, no matter what makes your heart beat and your mind ecstatic.
So I choose to express my humanity in relation to the most important soul in my universe: me.
I choose to love myself, just as I am.
I choose to be gentle with myself when I feel like that's what I need.
Yes, I can and am allowed to shut down my internet and not respond for a few hours to those hundreds of emails or messages that make my phone buzz daily. Yes, it's okay to skip a gym day, just because I don't have enough energy this Thursday. Yes, it's okay to eat carbonara pasta on Sunday night. The squares on my abdomen will endure.
And it's like when I look at myself like this, I also see my pain as part of who I am.
It’s okay for me to hurt. It's going to take a while. I'm going to cry some nights. I'm going to wonder why it was supposed to be this way.
But then the morning will come when everything will make sense. The morning will come and it no longer hurts.
And then I’ll take the best advice there is: When you can’t go anymore, go some more.
