I learned this year I can’t give from a cup half empty.
Half full, whatever way you want to look at it, I guess.
Any depletion, caused me to attract fragmented pieces, matching the incoherence I broadcasted myself.
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The email from the lab with the scans feel like Christmas morning every time. Pure childlike joy. But then the programmed, inner critic shows up and ruins every ounce of purity. I hit ‘Send’ and hope they like what they see, not knowing how much I doubt my output.
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Taking time again this month for my pleasure inventory.
A sight. A smell. A sound. A touch. A taste.
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Food has always been a pleasure for me and I’ve learned to accept the ramifications that come with my love for it. Though, I always felt that people who knew what their bodies needed and how to help them function at their best were onto something I was just not meant to in this lifetime.
Turns out…
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