The Ugliness of Self-Care

Today I want to talk about self-care. True self-care. Not the romanticized and trendy version the world is constantly pushing down our throats. Not the bath bombs and face masks and #treatyourself high-dollar purchases and ritual meditations the world seems so eager to focus on for peak lifestyles.

No, I’m talking about real self-care. The self-care that is often a very unbeautiful thing.

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I Am Good Enough

Today is the first day of summer and guess what is on my mind? It is not the fortune of having incredibly beautiful weather or the sweet freshness of snacking on Michigan cherries or even the enjoyment of partaking in a wine festival with lovely people surrounding me. No, my mind is too consumed with myself. My mind is noticing the slight peeling on my legs from last weekend’s sunburn and focusing on how I’ll never be that sun-kissed tan girls desire. It is cringing at my size compared to the women walking by and analyzing every inch of my body with skepticism. It’s criticizing every movement I make, every step I take, and every thought I have. No, my first day of summer has not been one of relaxation and excitement… but I do not plan for any other day of the year to be like this.

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