Sunday was Christmas. I spent it alone, which, I told myself, I wanted. And I did. It was what I needed. I baked and I ate and I cried. I allowed myself to go deep.
There was a moment where I imagined my now self going back in time and holding my infant self. Loving on myself so tenderly, so purely that the love just seeped into my skin. Creating a shield, to protect me from the things in the world which were waiting for me. Wanting, desperately, to care for myself, raise myself so that I might become a force to be reckoned with.
It only happed once. And only for an instant. But I feel like I’m breaking through.