Love letters.
In that grey notebook, I am keeping track of my 100 love letters to my body (in actions, not words). There are two entries so far. They’re short. No analysis, just number, date, description. I’m trying to make it easy on myself. No obligation to write something shareable or meaningful. The meaning is in the action, and it’s just for me.
Also, I am giving myself permission to read sometimes. It is a loving act. I miss books. This book is heartbreaking and amazing. I’m also reading a few others. I bought Take Me With You by Andrea Gibson – their poetry speaks to my heart.
This afternoon, I wrote about swamps and resilience (the post is on my Patreon) rather than doing more of the work I need to catch up on. It was a loving and generous act, to let myself write in a non-productive way. To write what came instead of writing what was next on the list.
Today included both the panic hangover from yesterday and its own new panic attack this morning, and I felt angry and sad about that, but I am learning how to be loving even in these moments.
I was reminded that my body is doing its best, and trying to protect me. So often, I default to assuming the worst – that it’s punishing and betraying me. Charitable interpretation is an act of love.
Today included many small love letters, and I am proud of myself.
