a self-love story...

Years ago, I was at breakfast with my mentor and we started discussing “self-love.” Outside of the occasional massage and a Jada Pinkett-Smith article I read in a magazine, I didn’t really understood what she meant. I thought “I love myself! Who doesn’t?”

Little did I know, that one conversation would be one of the catalysts that changed my life and helped me discover my purpose.

It was through those moments of self-discovery and self-care, working through trauma I thought I was past, and the self-checks when I had to be real about my life, my actions, and take accountability for changing it, that everything began to shift.

Beneath who society told me I was. Layers upon layers under every feeling and word I had suppressed to make others more comfortable around me, and far beyond the times I shrunk myself down or dimmed my light because I didn’t think I was worthy. It was there that I found myself. In my tears of release, in the laughter that filled my belly, in God’s gracious sunshine on my skin. In the eyes of those who love me, but most of all in the eyes staring back at me in the mirror. In my willingness to be vulnerable, uncomfortable, honest, to choose myself I realized that I had been here all along.

A self-love story…