I wanted to do something kind in honor of this being national kindness week but that is kind of hard to do when I haven't left my home since three days before Thanksgiving. I can't very well open doors for anyone or compliment people as I sit on my couch watching mind numbingly boring television. It's hard to be kind to others when you are shut in. I mean, I am kind but I am kind of like a hermit too.
I was thinking about kindness week last night and I thought about all of those times all I needed to hang on or to make my day less shitty was one kind word. And just how powerful one kind word can really be. My act of kindness will have to come from my blog this week and I wanted to share something I really believe in.
Be kind to yourself. With all the negative self talk, all of the stigma that surrounds our diagnoses, with all of the self doubt, be kind. Say something kind about yourself once a day. It doesn't have to be prophetic. It doesn't have to be deep. It can be a simple as," Well, I have decent hair today."
One kind word to ourselves can mean a lot. Especially, since many of us go weeks, months, sometimes even years without hearing one nice thing.
Kindness week doesn't have to mean only being kind to others. We need to also remember to also be kind to ourselves. We deserve it too.
So be kind to others, try to lift them up. Be helpful if you can and also be kind to you too. I know it isn't easy. We can sometimes be our worst enemy. We tend to be harder on ourselves than others are on us. We tend to judge ourselves way too harshly. So, be kind.
Tell yourself how worthy you are, how beautiful, how unique. Tell yourself how you are loved. How you are heard. Tell yourself how strong you are, how intelligent, how remarkable. Tell yourself these things even if you don't yet believe them. Just because you can't see it doesn't make it any less true.
Tell yourself what a good person you are. Because you are good person. Be proud of all of your accomplishments even if they seem small to you. Celebrate your wins. Be kind to yourself.
I think of how strong all us are, how amazing, how determined. I think about how different and yet supportive we all are. How brave. I think of us as magnificent in spite of our challenges.
And although today hasn't been stellar and I feel kinda crappy, I am going to be kind to myself this week too. Even if it means I have to tell myself that I am beautiful whilst sitting in my bathrobe with coffee stains on it. Because I need to hear I am beautiful sometimes just as all people do.
So in honor of kindness week : I am unique and all of you are unique too. I am strong just like all of you are strong. We are worthy. We are important. We matter. And if I am beautiful than you are all beautiful even in your coffee stained robes on a not so stellar day when you feel like crap.
Be safe, and be kind, and have a great weekend my friends.
Neurotic Nelly
Showing posts with label beautiful. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beautiful. Show all posts
Thursday, December 1, 2016
Thursday, October 20, 2016
Truth and Perceptions....
I have a new hobby and it is taking over my life.
I have spent countless hours refinishing old furniture, lately. Some people would complain but I like that it has made me obsessive or rather that my obsessive disorder is triggered on it because if I am sanding and staining and scrubbing things beautiful, I am not obsessing about getting some rare cancer from inhaling Scandinavian sheep farts.
I kid, but the reality of my dysfunction can be literally exhausting. I am afraid of every pain, every ache, every fleeting moment. I am terrified of things getting contaminated or tainted. I am frightened of every day life. My brain makes me worry. If my side hurts I may have liver cancer. If my head hurts it could be a tumor. A rash could mean something nefarious and scary. The gum under the table could give me Hepatitis. And even though I know this is all bullshit my mind makes up, it changes nothing for my anxiety.
And as much as I would love to, I can not turn it off. I can't stop thinking about it. The only thing I can do is distract myself when that same old broken record with the same old shitty song starts replaying in my head over and over and over again.
Being me can be so very tiring.
Days, weeks, months are filled with excessive worry. People see me as someone who has her shit together. I try so very hard to present myself that way but the truth and perception are two very different things.
The truth is that I have battled this mental illness for thirty three years. I know nothing else. It has stolen so much of my time and resources. It has ruined relationships. It has made my life hell.
But I refuse to be macabre and morose about it. I refuse to stay silent in the shadows and be ashamed. It is not me being brave it is me trying desperately to survive under it's clutches. And I will survive because I am not someone who gives up. I can't afford to be or this illness would take everything from me and I am not going down like that.
Which leads me to my point of this post:
Last weekend someone threw this table out to be picked up by the garbage truck. It was rough, dirty, and damp. It looked like it had went through hell and back and possibly a house fire and a war zone with angry bat wielding leprechauns. Someone had felt that it's ugliness meant that nothing beautiful was underneath the years of it's mistreatment and bad style choices. They overlooked it. They counted it to be less than. But I could see it for what it really was. Something that just needed some tlc. It just needed someone to see it for what it truly was, strong underneath all of it's ugly.
I saw myself in that piece of furniture. A little warped, some ugly bits on the outside, thought of as less than what I am worth at first glance because not everything about me is pretty to behold or easy to deal with. But under all of that distraction and dysfunction I am sturdy. I am more beautiful and strong than I ever thought possible.
Under the layers of paint and pain I am still me, still real, still a solid force to deal with. Maybe that is why this table, so casually discarded, moved me so much. Because I could see, even if no one else could, that this table was way more than just trash.
Refinishing this table delighted me. It healed me with every scrape of the paint chisel, with every piece of sandpaper, with every brush stroke of stain. Every moment of saving this table felt like me saving myself. Weird, I know.
A little sanding, a little stain, and a little bit of soapy water and viola.....
How could something so beautiful and sturdy as this be considered as garbage?
So, I am going to keep at it and keep refinishing the furniture I find discarded because of perceived flaws. I will make them beautiful again. And every time I bring something back to it's original beauty I will be reminded that deep down we are all beautiful underneath too. Despite our flaws and in spite of our supposed "ugly". Flaws don't make you weak, hideous, nor does it make you expendable. We are beautiful.
Truth and perceptions, people....truth and perceptions.
Neurotic Nelly
I have spent countless hours refinishing old furniture, lately. Some people would complain but I like that it has made me obsessive or rather that my obsessive disorder is triggered on it because if I am sanding and staining and scrubbing things beautiful, I am not obsessing about getting some rare cancer from inhaling Scandinavian sheep farts.
I kid, but the reality of my dysfunction can be literally exhausting. I am afraid of every pain, every ache, every fleeting moment. I am terrified of things getting contaminated or tainted. I am frightened of every day life. My brain makes me worry. If my side hurts I may have liver cancer. If my head hurts it could be a tumor. A rash could mean something nefarious and scary. The gum under the table could give me Hepatitis. And even though I know this is all bullshit my mind makes up, it changes nothing for my anxiety.
And as much as I would love to, I can not turn it off. I can't stop thinking about it. The only thing I can do is distract myself when that same old broken record with the same old shitty song starts replaying in my head over and over and over again.
Being me can be so very tiring.
Days, weeks, months are filled with excessive worry. People see me as someone who has her shit together. I try so very hard to present myself that way but the truth and perception are two very different things.
The truth is that I have battled this mental illness for thirty three years. I know nothing else. It has stolen so much of my time and resources. It has ruined relationships. It has made my life hell.
But I refuse to be macabre and morose about it. I refuse to stay silent in the shadows and be ashamed. It is not me being brave it is me trying desperately to survive under it's clutches. And I will survive because I am not someone who gives up. I can't afford to be or this illness would take everything from me and I am not going down like that.
Which leads me to my point of this post:
Last weekend someone threw this table out to be picked up by the garbage truck. It was rough, dirty, and damp. It looked like it had went through hell and back and possibly a house fire and a war zone with angry bat wielding leprechauns. Someone had felt that it's ugliness meant that nothing beautiful was underneath the years of it's mistreatment and bad style choices. They overlooked it. They counted it to be less than. But I could see it for what it really was. Something that just needed some tlc. It just needed someone to see it for what it truly was, strong underneath all of it's ugly.
I saw myself in that piece of furniture. A little warped, some ugly bits on the outside, thought of as less than what I am worth at first glance because not everything about me is pretty to behold or easy to deal with. But under all of that distraction and dysfunction I am sturdy. I am more beautiful and strong than I ever thought possible.
Under the layers of paint and pain I am still me, still real, still a solid force to deal with. Maybe that is why this table, so casually discarded, moved me so much. Because I could see, even if no one else could, that this table was way more than just trash.
Refinishing this table delighted me. It healed me with every scrape of the paint chisel, with every piece of sandpaper, with every brush stroke of stain. Every moment of saving this table felt like me saving myself. Weird, I know.
A little sanding, a little stain, and a little bit of soapy water and viola.....
How could something so beautiful and sturdy as this be considered as garbage?
So, I am going to keep at it and keep refinishing the furniture I find discarded because of perceived flaws. I will make them beautiful again. And every time I bring something back to it's original beauty I will be reminded that deep down we are all beautiful underneath too. Despite our flaws and in spite of our supposed "ugly". Flaws don't make you weak, hideous, nor does it make you expendable. We are beautiful.
Truth and perceptions, people....truth and perceptions.
Neurotic Nelly
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Beautiful....
When I was thirteen years old I had no self esteem. I am sure it was evident in the way I walked with my head down as to not garner any glances. I felt ugly, stupid, and worthless. I had been in a school where I had been bullied daily. My parents were on the verge of divorce. We were dirt poor and my family circumstances were pretty sad at that time. I had short hair and was teased about being gay or a boy. I wasn't gay nor a boy, not that anyone should be abused or bullied for either one of those things. They shouldn't period. I was called hopeless. I was called a freak, a waste, a pathetic excuse for a human being. I was many things but beautiful wasn't one of them. Not only did I hear this from my "peers" but I heard it loudest from myself. I felt completely broken. OCD is something that makes an idea in your head a broken record, your albatross, your repeat setting on the radio, your alarm clock. If you build it they will come. If you think it you will dwell. It never ceases to amaze me how much I can think about the same horrid things over and over again. If your obsession is that you are worthless then you have a big problem. I had a problem....a big one.
I tried to fit in and the more I did the more I failed. It was exhausting not only to fight my peers but more so the fighting of myself. A war of the demons in my soul. The plague of ghosts that haunted my mind. I wanted to be someone important. I wanted to be heard. I wanted to be beautiful.....I wanted to be normal. I wanted to be accepted and understood. I wanted what all children want but I felt I was too far gone to be accepted. Too wounded to be normal. Too broken to be anything but ugly.
Then it happened. A gift from God. A blessing. An angel in disguise, whatever you want to call it. For me it was a profound moment in my life. It was the chink in the armor. The broken brick in the wall that helped me to tear it down. It was one simple incident and it changed my life. I doubt he even knew what the power of his words did for me.
My mother and I were at a flea market. We weren't buying anything, just window shopping, as it were. I was wearing some ghastly nineties plaid multi-colored shirt and jeans. My glasses were constantly fogging up when we walked into the flea markets for some reason, leaving you blind for the first thirty seconds. My mom was looking at a booth and I decided to look at my feet and shuffle along like I always did. Never dare looking anyone in the eyes. I was quiet and demure, after all, what did I have to say that could be remotely important. I had walked by a handmade jewelry booth. There were hundreds of beautiful mother of pearl and beaded earrings. They glistened and I felt almost blinded by their beauty. They were precious and I felt out of place standing there looking at them. I started to walk away and as I did the man that ran the booth walked up to me. He was a nice looking older man with dark perfect coffee colored skin. He smelled like spices that were unfamiliar but pleasant. He handed something out to me. He had a strange accent foreign to me, maybe African and he said,"These are for you." I hesitated and said I had no money. He smiled and said,"They are for you," He kept shoving them in my direction. "These are for you because you are beautiful. Beautiful earrings for a beautiful girl." I was stunned. Surely he was talking about some other girl. I had been called many things by others not related to me, but beautiful sure wasn't one of them. He was insistent that I take them. They were dangle earrings that had pink bead on top of a mother of pearl long bead and a pink bead on the bottom. They were gorgeous and they sparkled in the light as I held them up. He smiled once more and then he was gone. I walked by his booth again with my mother and he was no longer open. I never saw him again.
It seems strange but what this did for my self esteem was huge. Had he not stepped in, I am not sure that I would be who I am today or that I would even be here at all. He made it possible for me to begin to believe that I was so much more than I thought I was. Someone thought I was beautiful. Someone believed in my worth as a person. Someone thought I was worth looking in the eye. Someone believed in me. He had no idea what kind of person I was but he must have noticed that I was unhappy and insecure. His simple gesture made me believe that if some stranger could believe in me than maybe I should try to believe in myself as well. He gave me back a little bit of my sense of dignity. A little bit of hope and even maybe a shred of self awareness. He planted a tiny seed of doubt that I was as ugly as I had been led to believe. A seed that grew into a tree the older I became. I realized that his simple gift had made me stronger. He didn't have to go out of his way to help a broken sad girl but he did and I am ever so thankful. He changed my life with his words. Who knows why he felt compelled to do this for me. Maybe he had been bullied or picked on? Maybe at some point he had felt insecure and ugly? Maybe he just needed to get rid of a pair of earrings? Maybe he just wanted to see a sad girl smile, I don't know. What I do know is that he started me on a path of self confidence with his single act and I will always be truly grateful.
It became ever so clear to me that there are many broken people walking around afraid of their imperfections. They feel lost and insecure. They feel like outsiders. They feel ugly. It can just take a few words of encouragement or a few words of kindness to help them begin to believe in themselves again. It can just take one word and it can change not only just their day but their whole lives. Some people are literally just waiting on one kind word. Maybe we should be more cognizant of that. Maybe we as people, especially those of us that have wrestled with this before, should make sure that when we see someone hurting, we offer a few words of kindness. After all, everyone in this world is unique and special. We are all beautiful and everyone deserves to feel that way at some point in their lives. Why not let it be now?
Why not tell the saddest, most scared, and insecure the truth? They are beautiful too. You are beautiful.....
Neurotic Nelly
I tried to fit in and the more I did the more I failed. It was exhausting not only to fight my peers but more so the fighting of myself. A war of the demons in my soul. The plague of ghosts that haunted my mind. I wanted to be someone important. I wanted to be heard. I wanted to be beautiful.....I wanted to be normal. I wanted to be accepted and understood. I wanted what all children want but I felt I was too far gone to be accepted. Too wounded to be normal. Too broken to be anything but ugly.
Then it happened. A gift from God. A blessing. An angel in disguise, whatever you want to call it. For me it was a profound moment in my life. It was the chink in the armor. The broken brick in the wall that helped me to tear it down. It was one simple incident and it changed my life. I doubt he even knew what the power of his words did for me.
My mother and I were at a flea market. We weren't buying anything, just window shopping, as it were. I was wearing some ghastly nineties plaid multi-colored shirt and jeans. My glasses were constantly fogging up when we walked into the flea markets for some reason, leaving you blind for the first thirty seconds. My mom was looking at a booth and I decided to look at my feet and shuffle along like I always did. Never dare looking anyone in the eyes. I was quiet and demure, after all, what did I have to say that could be remotely important. I had walked by a handmade jewelry booth. There were hundreds of beautiful mother of pearl and beaded earrings. They glistened and I felt almost blinded by their beauty. They were precious and I felt out of place standing there looking at them. I started to walk away and as I did the man that ran the booth walked up to me. He was a nice looking older man with dark perfect coffee colored skin. He smelled like spices that were unfamiliar but pleasant. He handed something out to me. He had a strange accent foreign to me, maybe African and he said,"These are for you." I hesitated and said I had no money. He smiled and said,"They are for you," He kept shoving them in my direction. "These are for you because you are beautiful. Beautiful earrings for a beautiful girl." I was stunned. Surely he was talking about some other girl. I had been called many things by others not related to me, but beautiful sure wasn't one of them. He was insistent that I take them. They were dangle earrings that had pink bead on top of a mother of pearl long bead and a pink bead on the bottom. They were gorgeous and they sparkled in the light as I held them up. He smiled once more and then he was gone. I walked by his booth again with my mother and he was no longer open. I never saw him again.
It seems strange but what this did for my self esteem was huge. Had he not stepped in, I am not sure that I would be who I am today or that I would even be here at all. He made it possible for me to begin to believe that I was so much more than I thought I was. Someone thought I was beautiful. Someone believed in my worth as a person. Someone thought I was worth looking in the eye. Someone believed in me. He had no idea what kind of person I was but he must have noticed that I was unhappy and insecure. His simple gesture made me believe that if some stranger could believe in me than maybe I should try to believe in myself as well. He gave me back a little bit of my sense of dignity. A little bit of hope and even maybe a shred of self awareness. He planted a tiny seed of doubt that I was as ugly as I had been led to believe. A seed that grew into a tree the older I became. I realized that his simple gift had made me stronger. He didn't have to go out of his way to help a broken sad girl but he did and I am ever so thankful. He changed my life with his words. Who knows why he felt compelled to do this for me. Maybe he had been bullied or picked on? Maybe at some point he had felt insecure and ugly? Maybe he just needed to get rid of a pair of earrings? Maybe he just wanted to see a sad girl smile, I don't know. What I do know is that he started me on a path of self confidence with his single act and I will always be truly grateful.
It became ever so clear to me that there are many broken people walking around afraid of their imperfections. They feel lost and insecure. They feel like outsiders. They feel ugly. It can just take a few words of encouragement or a few words of kindness to help them begin to believe in themselves again. It can just take one word and it can change not only just their day but their whole lives. Some people are literally just waiting on one kind word. Maybe we should be more cognizant of that. Maybe we as people, especially those of us that have wrestled with this before, should make sure that when we see someone hurting, we offer a few words of kindness. After all, everyone in this world is unique and special. We are all beautiful and everyone deserves to feel that way at some point in their lives. Why not let it be now?
Why not tell the saddest, most scared, and insecure the truth? They are beautiful too. You are beautiful.....
Neurotic Nelly
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Embrace
Everyone judges themselves. People with mental illness just cant seem to stop judging themselves so harshly. We can't seem to truly forgive ourselves for not being perfect. We tend to say such horrid things about ourselves. We use such damaging words. Stupid, crazy, selfish, unlovable, unacceptable, unworthy, ugly. We are none of these things. These words are not true and yet we all have called ourselves these things at one time or another. I have no idea why we do this. Why do we hold ourselves to such high standards but seem fine with not holding "normal" people to the same standards? Because we think we should be able to do things that we can not and then we blame ourselves? We punish ourselves. Destined to stand in the corner ashamed. Why?
No one is perfect. There is no shame in asking for help. There is nothing that we should blame ourselves for. You don't blame a person with a disease for their illness. Why do we blame ourselves for ours? Why are we so harsh and judgmental on ourselves? Everyone deserves acceptance and understanding. Everyone makes mistakes. We grow and we learn from them. We are not bad people. We just tend to think we are. Why?
Stigma is very real and we buy into it's propaganda. We allow other's to say the things deep down we believe. It took me years to realize I am not bad, ugly, or crazy. I am me. I am a woman living with mental illness. It is my albatross. It is my disease. I am not ashamed of it. Why should I be? I can't help that I have it. I have made poor decisions in the past. I dare you to find someone who has not been reckless or done something stupid. We are human. We are not Barbie dolls or glass figurines. We are not perfect. I refuse to judge myself harshly. What is the point? I can not change who I am. I will still have a mental illness in the morning. There is no magic potion or pill that will take it away. I am not going to waste my life being angry at myself. I have accepted who I am and all that goes with it. Am I selfish? Sometimes. Sometimes I don't want to share my candy or I want to be alone. Am I stupid? No, but I have made poor choices that seem stupid. Am I crazy? I am mentally ill not insane. I am not crazy, I am altered. Am I unlovable? No one is unlovable. As Marilyn Monroe said, If you can not handle me at my worst then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best. Am I unacceptable? Only if I can not accept myself. I accept myself so, no I am not unacceptable. Am I unworthy? Of course not. Everyone is worthy. I may not be able to do some things. I may make mistakes but I get right back up and try again. I am worthy in this world, and so are you. Am I ugly? Beauty is a fickle thing. I am not a size zero. I am not a model or actress. I am a bright, funny, loving, loyal person. I am an honest, respectful, kind person. I am beautiful because I believe that beauty is more than straight teeth and perfect hair. It is more than high fashion and starving yourself. I believe that my personality shines through and makes me beautiful. I am not a doll, I am a woman. I am not perfect but am I beautiful? Your damn right I am. And if you don't agree, Hey that's your opinion and you know what they say about opinions. Why we harbor these bad thoughts toward ourselves is a mystery. Why we refuse to accept that we can be broken and beautiful at the same time, I will never know. But we can and we are. We are worthy of all life has to offer. We are lovable, strong, and beautiful. We are unique. When you start hearing the lies we tell ourselves, the negative and foul degrading comments, do me a favor. Block them out and start telling yourself the things that make you who you are. Start whispering to yourself the unique things that make you different and magnificent. Don't put yourself down. You are worth so much more than that. We are all unique. We are all amazing. We are all lost souls bumping into the walls trying to get out and find our purpose. Your purpose is just to be the unique, inspiring, one of a kind person that you are. We can change the world if we just learn to end the stigma without falling victim to it. We are not victims, we are fighters. We can find peace and acceptance. We can heal. We just have to learn to accept ourselves first. We are the color in a world full of grey. We are the unique in a world full of boring. Embrace that we are different and accept that it is ok to do so. Embrace that we are the ghosts in the machine. We are the fish in the waters. We are whatever we want ourselves to be. Embrace yourself and look around and see the world like I do. Free of self hatred. Free of negativity. Free of fear that I am not good enough. We are all good enough.
Neurotic Nelly
No one is perfect. There is no shame in asking for help. There is nothing that we should blame ourselves for. You don't blame a person with a disease for their illness. Why do we blame ourselves for ours? Why are we so harsh and judgmental on ourselves? Everyone deserves acceptance and understanding. Everyone makes mistakes. We grow and we learn from them. We are not bad people. We just tend to think we are. Why?
Stigma is very real and we buy into it's propaganda. We allow other's to say the things deep down we believe. It took me years to realize I am not bad, ugly, or crazy. I am me. I am a woman living with mental illness. It is my albatross. It is my disease. I am not ashamed of it. Why should I be? I can't help that I have it. I have made poor decisions in the past. I dare you to find someone who has not been reckless or done something stupid. We are human. We are not Barbie dolls or glass figurines. We are not perfect. I refuse to judge myself harshly. What is the point? I can not change who I am. I will still have a mental illness in the morning. There is no magic potion or pill that will take it away. I am not going to waste my life being angry at myself. I have accepted who I am and all that goes with it. Am I selfish? Sometimes. Sometimes I don't want to share my candy or I want to be alone. Am I stupid? No, but I have made poor choices that seem stupid. Am I crazy? I am mentally ill not insane. I am not crazy, I am altered. Am I unlovable? No one is unlovable. As Marilyn Monroe said, If you can not handle me at my worst then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best. Am I unacceptable? Only if I can not accept myself. I accept myself so, no I am not unacceptable. Am I unworthy? Of course not. Everyone is worthy. I may not be able to do some things. I may make mistakes but I get right back up and try again. I am worthy in this world, and so are you. Am I ugly? Beauty is a fickle thing. I am not a size zero. I am not a model or actress. I am a bright, funny, loving, loyal person. I am an honest, respectful, kind person. I am beautiful because I believe that beauty is more than straight teeth and perfect hair. It is more than high fashion and starving yourself. I believe that my personality shines through and makes me beautiful. I am not a doll, I am a woman. I am not perfect but am I beautiful? Your damn right I am. And if you don't agree, Hey that's your opinion and you know what they say about opinions. Why we harbor these bad thoughts toward ourselves is a mystery. Why we refuse to accept that we can be broken and beautiful at the same time, I will never know. But we can and we are. We are worthy of all life has to offer. We are lovable, strong, and beautiful. We are unique. When you start hearing the lies we tell ourselves, the negative and foul degrading comments, do me a favor. Block them out and start telling yourself the things that make you who you are. Start whispering to yourself the unique things that make you different and magnificent. Don't put yourself down. You are worth so much more than that. We are all unique. We are all amazing. We are all lost souls bumping into the walls trying to get out and find our purpose. Your purpose is just to be the unique, inspiring, one of a kind person that you are. We can change the world if we just learn to end the stigma without falling victim to it. We are not victims, we are fighters. We can find peace and acceptance. We can heal. We just have to learn to accept ourselves first. We are the color in a world full of grey. We are the unique in a world full of boring. Embrace that we are different and accept that it is ok to do so. Embrace that we are the ghosts in the machine. We are the fish in the waters. We are whatever we want ourselves to be. Embrace yourself and look around and see the world like I do. Free of self hatred. Free of negativity. Free of fear that I am not good enough. We are all good enough.
Neurotic Nelly
Monday, February 25, 2013
Beautiful
People come in many shapes and sizes. We have different cultures. Different skin tones. Different languages. Different personalities. Different ancestries. The only constant in all of us is our differences. Some of us are well. Some of us are not. Some of us are strong. Some of us are followers. Some of us are funny. Some of us are more serious. All of us deserve respect and understanding. We are all beautiful.
If beauty is just in the eye of the beholder than I must have huge hands. I see beauty in everyone. Pain that makes us struggle is beautiful. It makes us who we are. Strong unbending warriors. Beautiful in our strength.
Compassion is beautiful. It makes us strive to help the broken. To help the fallen. The injured souls.
Anger is beautiful. It makes us stand up and say I will not accept this. I deserve better treatment. Or this other person does not deserve your mistreatment. It inspires us to change the situation. It inspires us to change.
Sadness is beautiful. It makes us hold onto our loved ones more tightly. It makes us search out how to be happy.
Truth is beautiful. It makes us look at ourselves and the world around us and admit that things are not perfect. That life is an imperfect glorious experience.
Beauty is not what we look like or where we come from. Beauty is how we treat others. How we offer a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on. Beauty is standing up for those in need. Beauty is ending the stigma of mental illness. Beauty is a smile. It is a touch. It is comforting words. It is wiping away a child's tears. It is offering a a glass of water to the thirsty. Advice to the masses asking for help. It is accepting that you are who you are for a reason. Beauty is hope. Hope for a better day. Hope for change. Hope for others. Beauty is love. Loving your family. Loving your friends. Loving yourself even as broken as you are. Beauty is falling down to your knees in despair and getting back up. Beauty is in a child's laughter. A old man's poems. A mother's lullabies. Beauty is in a gentle warm breeze. In a moment of silence in the middle of a field. Beauty is in everything that we experience. Beauty is in our differences. Our beliefs. Our reaching out to be better people. In reaching for our dreams. In reaching out to help lift those that need to be lifted. Beauty is the seasons. Beauty is the trees, the water and everything in between. Beauty is in all of us and everything around us. We are all beautiful.
Neurotic Nelly
If beauty is just in the eye of the beholder than I must have huge hands. I see beauty in everyone. Pain that makes us struggle is beautiful. It makes us who we are. Strong unbending warriors. Beautiful in our strength.
Compassion is beautiful. It makes us strive to help the broken. To help the fallen. The injured souls.
Anger is beautiful. It makes us stand up and say I will not accept this. I deserve better treatment. Or this other person does not deserve your mistreatment. It inspires us to change the situation. It inspires us to change.
Sadness is beautiful. It makes us hold onto our loved ones more tightly. It makes us search out how to be happy.
Truth is beautiful. It makes us look at ourselves and the world around us and admit that things are not perfect. That life is an imperfect glorious experience.
Beauty is not what we look like or where we come from. Beauty is how we treat others. How we offer a helping hand or a shoulder to cry on. Beauty is standing up for those in need. Beauty is ending the stigma of mental illness. Beauty is a smile. It is a touch. It is comforting words. It is wiping away a child's tears. It is offering a a glass of water to the thirsty. Advice to the masses asking for help. It is accepting that you are who you are for a reason. Beauty is hope. Hope for a better day. Hope for change. Hope for others. Beauty is love. Loving your family. Loving your friends. Loving yourself even as broken as you are. Beauty is falling down to your knees in despair and getting back up. Beauty is in a child's laughter. A old man's poems. A mother's lullabies. Beauty is in a gentle warm breeze. In a moment of silence in the middle of a field. Beauty is in everything that we experience. Beauty is in our differences. Our beliefs. Our reaching out to be better people. In reaching for our dreams. In reaching out to help lift those that need to be lifted. Beauty is the seasons. Beauty is the trees, the water and everything in between. Beauty is in all of us and everything around us. We are all beautiful.
Neurotic Nelly
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