I’m surviving

That’s a lot of what it feels like lately. No thriving here. Day by day, moment by moment, I am getting through. A large portion of it is lack of sleep, for sure. Another part, though, I think is feeling disconnected from who I was and who I thought I would be. The cliched phrase is something along the lines of God laughing at our plans and, while I love keeping God jolly, I kind of wish He’d let me in on the joke every once and a while.

And, unfortunately but not unpredictably, right now the focus of my “I wishes” is revolving around my physical appearance. Still got the baby tummy, still got the stretch marks, still not the gorgeous, twig who can confidently do anything she wants and has a perfect heart of gold. And, like most bad feelings I find myself in, I don’t shake them away easily. I’m defining myself by the way others define me and/or how I look at any given moment. Not the precious child of God who has a unique place in this world. Thank goodness I have a baby girl, who is thankfully the spitting image of her daddy, to distract from the fact that I don’t love myself the way that I should because of some ill-conceived notions in my head. So, I’ll love her, and her daddy, the very best that I can and hope that along the way, I will learn to use some of that unconditional love on myself as well.

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