I’m not nice to myself.

I’ve always had this separation in my mind between myself and others when it comes to compassion and understanding. I fully support and send so much love and compassion to those struggling with their mental health, feeling unsuccessful with their work, dealing with family or marriage issues. But when it’s me fighting my depression/anxiety, or feeling like a failure, or plain not knowing what to do next, I become the Regina of all Georges. 

This brings me to my homework this week from my therapist. Self-compassion. Loving myself. Forgiving myself. Accepting and celebrating myself. These things are incredibly foreign to me. So, I’m starting small. A crumb of self-love. For the next week, I am committed to challenging all the automatic negative thoughts I have about myself and to ask myself how I would react if it were someone else having the thought. How would I respond to them? Then I will tell myself that–be it saying it out loud in a mirror or typing it out in a note on my phone. Whatever way allows me to hear/see/feel the response.

I may suck at loving myself right now, but I fucking rock at wanting other people to know how amazing they are despite the faults they see in themselves.

So for now, Carrie isn’t me. Carrie is the person who needs my support and love.

XxCarrie

Me to myself this week —->  

Fucking Harry (in the best way)…