Accepting the Broken Pieces
I was at a party yesterday when a close acquaintance approached me about the self I present on social media and asked how I had come around to loving myself. I laughed, thinking that her riot-sarcasm targeting my insecurities and self-worth issues was beyond genus humor, (hey, I’m all into self-deprecating humor, especially when it comes from other people) until I realized she was quite serious. So much for irony being dead. I say a lot of things to other people that I need to hear for myself. And I think, just maybe, it’s a small way I’m learning to accept and internalize some deep-seated self-acceptance. That’s a far cry from the “loving myself” piece I’m trying to obtain, but it’s a start. For the better part of this past year, I have led a group of precious and patient people in a yoga fusion class that ends with a meditation piece. I’m utterly terrified to be in crowds, so their patience comes in handy as I repeatedly stammer through the microphone and mix up an elbow for a
