I’ve been back in Boston for almost a week. I’ve been spending my time trying desperately to not let the feeling of home slip from my fingers.
Being back in AZ for a month was one of the best gifts I have ever gotten. Despite being sick for part of it, I realized so much about myself. It was the best feeling in the world to wake up one morning and realize that I was happy. I wasn’t feeling stressed or sad or lonely or anything else. I was happy. And so as I move through my final semester of college, I hold the feeling close to my heart.
I am so done with doing anything other than supporting my own happiness. I am tired of being hard on myself and allowing myself to believe all the things that other people tell me I am. I’m sick of being tired and burnt out. I’m done with feeling not good enough.
I love my body–it’s been almost three years since I’ve truly felt that. I love my body and the power that I have. I love the strength of my fingernails and hair. I love the softness of my skin, the ability to stand on my toes for hours, the way my collarbones look when I have my hair up. I love that this body is healthy, mostly, and that it allows me to push myself through workouts. I love the way that it subtly reminds me of the foods I should consume or the things I’d rather not. I love that I can look in the mirror at myself feel beautiful.
I am so very lucky to be where I am. To be young and healthy and capable and smart. And yet it is so easy to not feel any of those things all at once. I deserve to be happy. So as I start this semester, move through my life, and enter back into a slightly toxic environment, I’m forcing myself to find and create my own joy. To remind myself why I deserve more. To hold my own well-being sacred. To love myself fiercely. Because there’s no one else who knows me as well as I do. And I know that I need those words.