Black Oak's Daughter

I spend my days building people up. Telling them about the good things I see in them. Appreciating the normally mundane tasks that they do, to let them know they’re valued. I love making them smile.

So, why is it that I’m so critical about myself. I look in the mirror and see my double chin, crooked boobs and fat belly, and I ignore my beautiful eyes, and cute face and for the first time in a long while, I have good hair.

I expect everything I do to come out perfectly, while I give everyone else as many attempts as they need to get something right.

I beat myself up for forgetting things, but forgive everyone else and chalk it up to being too busy with life, or too involved with some project to remember.

I possess a good amount of intelligence, but I belittle myself for misspelling a word, or not knowing every detail about something.  How smart is that?

Why did it take me 41 years to figure out that building myself up is just as important as  giving anyone else a boost?  Why do I need to be so critical of myself?  I have a damn good life. I’m loved. I have a roof over my head. I’ve survived many, many things and I’m stronger for it. Why, when I talk to myself, do I continue to tear myself down and keep my self worth at nearly zero? This isn’t about building ego. I work with enough of those, I don’t need one. This is about valuing the good in myself. Even if it’s just a little bit. It’s time to let the light in and heal my heart.

It’s time to appreciate me.

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