For as long as I could remember, I have been a healer. The one everyone comes to when they need help, guidance or just someone to listen until they feel better. I try my hardest to be there, primarily knowing how grateful I would feel for someone to be there for me in my time of need and it makes me feel amazing. However, lately, understandably being the empath that I am, I have found that this task has brought on a lot more stress and anxiety than it has comfort from the ones I care about and knowing that they are okay.
For as long as I can remember, I held onto a journal. Not the kind you play mash in and hide the key under your pillow thinking no one will find it, but an inconspicuous notebook that went everywhere with me so that in times of fear, anger, happiness and even sadness I had the opportunity to let it out. But starting a new journey with a gratitude journal earlier this year has sincerely changed the way I navigate my everyday life.
Being mindful on how we treat ourselves not only matters in the external but the internal. Have you ever just stopped and thought, “What in the real f*ck did I just say to myself?” Yeah, those crazy ass remarks about my every move and those sneaky bouts of doubt that come and go made me re-evaluate my way of thinking.
There are still bad days but I find that many of my good ones are dictated by the way that I speak silently to myself and filtering between what I feel, and what’s real.