I’ve come to a point where I truly want to give myself the gift of a healthy body.

Not out of shame.
Not to prove anything.
But because I finally believe I deserve to feel good in my skin — strong, nourished, alive.

And yet, even in this desire, I feel the voices rise:

  • The critical parent, with its sharp edges and tight boundaries
  • The last remnants of the wounded child, still scared to hope
  • The protective instinct that wants to keep me safe by keeping me small

But I don’t want to fight them anymore.
I see them now. I feel them.
And I understand — they’ve all been trying to protect me in their own ways.

Even the demon-like voice of the critic?
It just wants me to be safe.
And maybe, what it really needed all along was a hug — not exile.

All Parts of Me Belong

I’m no longer trying to split myself into good and bad.
No longer shaming the parts of me that feel too much or not enough.
They all belong.
They all have a place at the table.

And that’s why things can move forward now — because I’m not dragging myself by force anymore.
I’m walking with all of me.
Together.

I’ve Loved My Time Alone

It’s been necessary. Deeply so.

I’ve had space to hear myself, to feel things fully, to stop reacting and start listening. And now, when I go out, I don’t carry the same hunger. I’m not searching for someone to complete me.

But I do enjoy connection. I’m open to it. I’ve spoken to people at the park. I can feel which ones I might grow something with, even if it’s small.

And if I don’t? That’s okay too.
Because I know now:

Connection isn’t rare. Desperation is.

And I’m done chasing crumbs.

I’d Rather Go Out Trying

If it’s true that no one suits me,
If it’s true that I’m just a strange, quiet man who walks the world with too much heart and not enough tolerance for bullshit…

I’d still rather go out trying than give up hope.

Because isolation and depression aren’t truths — they’re places. And I’ve lived in them long enough to know they’re not where I want to build my life.

All I can do is show up — honestly, gently, as I am.

And that version of me?
He belongs.
Everywhere he goes.