I talk about my dreams with assurance. I believe in them. I take chances in life and relationship and art and words.

I see the dignity in people now and forgive easily and give more grace. Even to myself.

I’m less likely to beat myself up over the burdens I couldn’t bear. Sometimes you drop the things you’re carrying when the weight is too heavy or when you hold too many things.

I’m releasing the pressure.

I don’t stick to plans for the plan’s sake anymore. I allow myself flexibility so I can hear the moment and be there.

I’m learning how to exist.

And breathe.

And recognize myself.

I started taking my time and giving myself margin, so I don’t feel the pressure of time like I used to.

I give my body what it needs like food and sleep and warmth.

I look in the mirror, and I love my face and its shapes and proportions. It’s just a shell and I’m more beautiful when I take care of my soul.

I don’t need more than what I have. I might need less. I am grateful though.

My husband is sleeping, and he loves me. He sacrifices for me, and he’s gentle to me. He speaks to me with tenderness and respect. He speaks to me with an honest heart and pure intentions.

All this truth spoken is my true self. It’s a woman who isn’t afraid. A woman who laughs and cries and feels and calculates and plans and dreams and is not bound by this world and its eyes.

She is known and loved and adored,

So she keeps forward motion.

And I realized I wasn’t scared of the same things anymore.