Still hungry. 

Love of my life. Check.
Son. Check.
Cozy apartment. Check.
Sweet job. Check.
Fun commute to work. Check.
Squat my weight. Check.
Soccer and sprinting. Check.
Writing daily. Check.

This birthday was suppose to be easiest to swallow. Why didn’t I give myself more love and grace? There is so much to be grateful for. Most days are bright. Most days are healthy. I’m happy. Truly! I should be thankful. Where did this pity party come from?

I want more. I will have more. More to be proud of. Yet, I need to remember to measure myself in how I treat others– especially those I disagree with. Tolerance. In having manners. In generosity. In advocating for the marginalized.

Too late. Pity party. Party of 1, was had. As it must be. And it’s passed. As it should.

That’s what I can’t stand about anyone that gives advice to stay strong when you feel down/defeated. Fuck that. Feel those feelings. Acknowledge them. Understand them. Only then are you able to move into strength. Processing defeat is what kept me sane. Holding to ‘my best days are ahead of me’ kept me sane.

My best meals are ahead of me too.

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