I was on my weekly long drive between my two 'homes' yesterday, when at a certain moment, and for some reason that I can't put my finger on, I decided that I am tired of being depressed..
It was like pulling myself together, giving ME a good shake, and telling myself to quit quitting!
A very good friend of mine always tells me: We are survivors.. On my courageous moments, I cheer in agreement, and in other weaker ones, I just smile when I really feel like screaming..
But we are.. We are survivors, of course we are..
I think that I sometimes am too harsh on myself.. So I make mistakes, who doesn't? So I have silly little habits that I long to get rid of to achieve my version of perfection, but what is perfection, anyway? What's perfect for me might mean nothing to someone else..
I have the right to make mistakes.. And the minute I stop making them, I will realize that I have stopped trying.. I have stopped living..
I love me.. I want to take care of me.. And I want to accept, without the drama and the tears and the shock, that there is no body at all, who would do a better job at taking care of myself than I would..
It would help, I think, if I can stop briefly, and define my standards, my own set of beliefs.. What's right for me? What's not? What would make me happy? And once I come up with that, once I have my own Book of Rules to follow, I would think it would be easier to take it from there..
But what's important today is that I am alive, and that I am proud of who I am.. And that I believe, and Oh how great that belief feels, that I love myself, and that I just might be able to take care of myself after all..