So apparently I'm a whole one year older now. And my gray hair count is up to 5. I think I might actually start to have legit street cred in my social work practice.
I was treated to a wonderful puppet show today at work (Yes, I actually have a real job and it's not all fun and shenanigans. Well, it is mostly fun and shenanigans). It went something like this:
Donkey: "I'm sad. I want a friend."
Swan: "I'm sad. I want a friend."
Donkey: "Do you want to be friends with me?"
Swan: "Yup."
Donkey: "We were friends all along."
Swan: "What's your favorite food?"
Donkey: "Bamboo."
Swan: "Me too. That makes us best friends."
Donkey: "Yup. The End."
Lots of bows and copious amounts of applause from the audience.
Can't it be that easy in real life? Maybe it is and we, as adults, are just really good at making things really complicated. Maybe it is as easy as having someone enjoy eating bamboo with you.
One realization that has hit me over the head this past week is that we often treat ourselves worse than we would ever treat our best friend. As I listen to all of the negative and self-doubting messages that I send myself over the course of the day, I realize how unbelievably cruel I am to myself. How can I accept love from others if I can't even love myself first? So in my 27th year, I am trying to be my own best friend. It ain't easy. Especially with a daunting case of perfectionism coupled with a cynical sense of humor. But I'm willing to try treating myself with more care and kindness and really believe that I am worthy and that I am enough. If I ever figure it out, I'll let you know.
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