I’m learning how to take care of myself.  And the first step to that is admitting that I don’t have this ambiguous ‘it’ all together.  At all.  My hands are dirty and my body is scarred.  And that’s okay.  My life never plays out the way I picture it.  And that’s okay.  What matters is that I know I’m worth taking care of myself. Sometimes I think we hide behind charity in the hopes that we can make ourselves better until we’re worth someone returning the favour.  But what if all along we were already worth it?  What if we didn’t have to wait around for pity but could pick ourselves up?  What if there was nothing that could change the fact that we matter?  Couldn’t we then meet each other as equals and give and receive the help we desperately need not out of pity but out of love?  Until we take care of ourselves, do we have the capacity to take care of others?

There is an incredibly tenacious feeling in human consciousness that we have something to prove.  That this is a race or a competition and the consequence for coming in last is devastating.  But maybe we could stop worrying that we’re not the fastest or the strongest.  Maybe we could stop worrying that our running shoes aren’t the latest, the hippest, or the most attractive.  Maybe we could stop trying to trip the guy running next to us in order to get ahead.  Maybe we could stop running behind because we’re afraid we don’t deserve the lead.  Maybe we could look around and see we’re all taking the same road to eternity and we might as well walk together.

Maybe we don’t need to have it all together.  Maybe we just need to learn to be brave and be love.

Finally I’m worth it though I’m not perfect.  It still feels right.

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