I'm a generally positive person. I can find the goodness and beauty in almost anyone. I can easily forgive others for their mistakes and misunderstandings.
But I am mean to myself.
I have a voice, a constant running commentary in the back of my head, telling me I'm not good enough.
It sneers at me when I put on a movie for the kids because I just can't stand to play Candyland one more time. When I try on a pair of pants that doesn't fit anymore, it tells me how weak-willed and lazy I am. It supposes that my husband might leave me for someone more interesting, more attractive, or who can at least manage to get dinner on the table. It tells me that I can't call myself an artist or writer, because what I do isn't "real" art. It tells me that I'm not good enough. Or smart enough. Or brave enough.
Most of all, it tells me that I deserve to feel this way.
I am going to stop listening to that voice.
I'm going to try to hear, instead, the quiet voice that breaks through sometimes and tells me that I'm okay. The one that tells me I've done a good job. The one that tells me I'm funny and kind. The one that tells me I am doing the best I can. The one that says my children know how much I love them, and feel safe and secure. The one that tells me my husband loves the person I am, no matter what package I come in. The one that tells me I create beautiful things.
I'm going to do that for me, and I'm going to do that because there are two little girls watching me. I see myself in them more every day; in the turn of a phrase, or the tilt of a head. And I want to see people who are capable of being proud of what they are, instead of drowning in feelings of inadequacy because of what they feel they aren't.