And then all of a sudden it hit me…. I am the same person I was six months ago.  The same person I was three weeks ago.  I did not disappear, my core beliefs and thoughts did not vanish, I am still the loving, funny, and caring person I was when I was in my own home… so why the hell have I not been acting like it?  Has my shame from losing my home really caused me to think that differently of myself?  That all of a sudden I am not lovable, or a being made to be appreciated, must I really allow myself to act like a teenager just because I am treated as one?

I do not have to be owned by my circumstances, I do not have to define myself by my current state.  I’m a fairly intelligent, educated woman, who can pretty much kick ass if given the opportunity.  I have helped run companies, I have secured large accounts, I have helped raise teen girls, I have kicked some ass, and taken a few names along the way.  I can choose to learn and grow from this experience of re-living with my mother, or I can wilt and die away (as I have been practicing).  I can remind myself daily that I am powerfully and wonderfully made, flaws and all, and that I am fucking lovable. I am fucking lovable. Whether my mom shows me that, my friends, my loves, anyone… that is their issue, not mine. I am lovable.

My self-worth does not have to be contingent on what others think of me, if they approve or not, or if they even love me or not.  I do not have to hold my breath in anticipation of a few validating words or actions from another person. I can love myself, I can validate myself, and I can honor myself in all that I do.  And damn if I haven’t been fucking that all up, the whole honoring myself, thing.  However, it does not have to be that way, I can choose today to honor my feelings, my choices and myself.  I have not led a perfect life, but I have lived a very entertaining and remarkable one, and survived it all.

                    I am still here.

I am still breathing.

And I am still fucking lovable.