24 July 2025 – I Love Myself

[This is a work in progress. I will be coming back here to potentially add reasons for which I love myself. To also remember that I love myself when I don't feel like it. Because well... loving anybody and especially oneself, isn't that always a work in progress? ]

I love myself… even when I don’t know what I’m doing, even when I stumble and break shit.

Even when I do know what I’m doing—and still get lost while doing it.

I love myself when I lose my temper, when I’m mean

.I love myself when I make mistakes—especially when I fuck up. Some times I fuck up sad, sometimes I fuck up embarrassing, sometimes I fuck up big.

I love my fuck-ups. They’re mine.They are stories, and I love stories.

I love my difficult character—the one I’m still trying to understand.

And I love that I keep trying, even when it’s frustrating.

I love living through my eyes, through my ever-changing beliefs.

I love helping others light up, even just a little.

I love chaos.

I love change.

I love watching my mind unravel, reform, evolve.

I love my anxiety, and the effort I make to befriend it.

I love myself for always trying. Trying to find myself. Trying to hold my pain, my wounds, my efforts, my stubborn optimism.

I love how I sometimes feel misunderstood. How I question everything—my path, my beliefs, my self.... and still, somehow, beneath it all… I believe in me.

Through the doubt. Through the fear. Through the frustration and stagnation of this deep, deep soul-searching.

I love the courage I know is buried inside me—Under layers of fear, panic, lostness, selfishness, and love. Down there… is me. Even if I haven’t fully met her yet, I believe in her.

I love myself in my darkest times. When I feel hopeless, defeated—Still, there’s a tiny voice whispering: everything will be okay.

Its origin has many sources. At first, it was simply an innate state I carried as a child, something woven into me from the start. As I grew up, it stayed — because life was always more fun that way.

Later, as an adult moving through turbulence, uncertainty, and pain, it became a chosen belief. A way to keep walking when the ground felt shaky.

And then came the turning point: my first panic attack, when I moved to Vancouver. Panic was too big to solve, too tangled to untangle, too overwhelming to chase down with action steps. Every worst-case scenario my mind created was impossible to manage.

So I let go. And I chose instead to believe that somehow, everything will be ok.

I love myself through my tears. I love my imperfections.I ’m learning to embrace being loud and breaking things. I’m learning to embrace the pendulum swing—swinging to the other extreme.

I love my recklessness. My vulnerability. My oversharing. My overthinking. My over feeling. My over giving. And now… the opposite of that, too.

I love that I try. And try. And try. I love my own company. I love my mind. I love the villain in me, sometimes.

I love embracing imperfection. I volunteer to be the most embarrassing, imperfect person in the room—If that will break someone else’s chains.I f that will free someone else to try.

I love my experience through life—Even if, right now, I have no idea whether I’m crazy or amazing. Either is better than being “normal,” nice, and dead dull.

I love my insecurities. My regrets. My remorses.(If I have any—they feel more like perspectives than facts.) Regret is just a meaning you assign… and you can choose another.

I believe I’m doing the best I know how, every time. I choose to see everything as either a win or a lesson. So really—everything is working out for me.

What is regret then? That I didn’t know what I didn’t know? That my ego took over? That I was afraid and missed an opportunity? That happens. To all of us.

I also love the night. The moon. The early morning when no one else is awake.

I love poetry. I love the wild freedom to create. I love creation.

I love little, random, meaningless things.

I love surprises.

I love people.

I love my life—Even if I feel I haven’t fully lived it yet.

I love unique, crazy-looking individuals—the crazier, the better.

I love crazy.

I love that you don’t need a reason to love.

You just do.

It’s a decision, a rebellion against common sense?

Or is it common sense?

A radical acceptance

To be Continued…. as I continue to find things to love about myself…