It’s cold out, and we’re in April. My cat is playing with a plastic thread used to hold a price tag on new clothing. The overcast and the fact that I am sitting here, wearing a scarf in April, is perpetuating my already sadness. As I watch my cat twist and turn, jump and pounce toward his new beloved toy, I begin to cry.

Why?

Because I love him. And I love that he is feeling joyous and playful.

What a silly thing to cry about, right?

Sometimes I wonder…what am I doing with my life? Sometimes I feel so defeated and confused that I just lie here, thinking. Reflecting. Sometimes I tell myself, like now, that I shouldn’t write from a sad place. Sometimes I worry so much about how I am living my life, wondering if others will approve of me. Sometimes I feel so discouraged that I feel I have no sense of direction. Sometimes I feel so self-righteous that it makes me feel completely alone in the world. Sometimes I wonder how I can get my ego to stop berating me and begin uplifting me.

Stop berating me…and begin uplifting me, Ego. Please.

Tell me I am good enough. Tell me I can write, share it, and it will be joyous, and maybe even helpful. Tell me that my vulnerability is precious and beautiful. Tell me that I am beautiful. Tell me that I am in fact not an imposter—that I am the real deal. That I am allowed to change and flow with life AND create stability for and within myself. Tell me that I am worthy and deserving of all good things in life. Tell me that the bad times, the trauma, doesn’t define me nor my life. Tell me that I don’t have to know where all of this is going or how it is going to unfold, I just need to be here, now, and that is enough. Tell me that I am good. That I am made of love. That love will continue to unfold for me in this life.

I don’t desire to play the character that “has it all figured out with all of the answers and is better than the rest” nor do I want to play the character that “isn’t worthy or good enough to show up full in expression and power because of a looming cloud of self-doubt.” I want to play the character who does her best to find her balance on the center of that scale. The one who doesn’t know a damn thing, and does know a thing or two. The one that is human, riding the wave of life experiences—enduring grief, and exuding joy. The one that continuously returns to her center, her inner power, her truth.

That character…is me.

Ego, please remember who it is, that which is me.

Real, raw, deeply flawed, and filled with an abundance of love.

Yours,

Alex—The Character