Recently, it’s been so difficult to love myself; I’m always trying to compensate by giving and giving and giving until I feel worthy and appreciated. But then again, it has been a running theme for… my whole life. If I care for you, I care that you don’t want me. I feel like I’m not worth your time. And if I care about you, I long for you to think the best of me, though I believe your love for me is ungrounded. Why do you think so well of me? Why do you think I’m great? You mustn’t really know me. You must be deceiving yourself. You must have low standards to be impressed by me.

I’m unsure of what I deserve, and sometimes, this means settling for less. At least I get a kiss. At least I’m desirable on some level. I can call it pathetic or I can be sympathetic– it’s human to want to feel loved in some way. But I want to be loved for my whole person, to believe that I can be loved, as imperfect as I am. As impossible as it seems. And it’s not self pity, it’s a terrible acceptance. It’s not something I dwell over- I just carry it day to day, a low hum in the background.

I cannot wait to go home, surrounded by people who remind me that I am already loved. This is belonging. This is acceptance, security, comfort. This is home.
I feel a fraction of God’s love through my family and friends, who hurt when I do. “You’re such a wonderful girl, I don’t understand why you feel that way”. “You’re amazing, I just wish you could see, just for a second, the way people see you. It would take all these feelings away”. And the sincerity I feel behind those words is so humbling. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you for loving me enough to accept me, flaws and all #beyonce.
Do I make you feel the way you make me feel? Am I as good to you as you are to me? You make me believe it. I’m enough!

By the power of God, I am enough. How can I love myself when I am so imperfect? I am embarrassed, ashamed. But still, He loves. His love makes me whole- it’s okay to be what I am, because perfection is futile. Through Him, I believe that it is possible to be lovely.

I am amazed by and thankful for this love because I know I don’t deserve it. But since I am loved, I will accept that I am loveable. There is nothing I can do to deserve it, because it is a given. I am not defined by the love people have failed to show me but by the love of the Father.

You’re a good good Father,
It’s who you are.
And I’m loved by you.
It’s who I am.


My type

There are those who will extend kindness to anyone, wherever they go. They leave a trail of sunshine. The sort of teachers that are not intimidating but encouraging when it’s clear that you’re not nearly as smart as they are. The kind of friend who’s a genius and doesn’t scoff at your blank expression. They speak as though you’re not all that different from them; you’re not stupid, you just have more to learn and they can’t wait to lift you up. It’s not look what I have and what you don’t, it’s here, let me show you. The have a faith in you that is not based on merit and yet it makes you feel like there’s nothing you can’t do. Everything they touch turns to gold.
Then there are people who are highly selective in who they are loving towards. Ignorance is unforgivable. “See, I’m actually such a nice person!” But only to those deemed worthy. Only to those who are as rational, as accomplished, as well-read. “We” is a group held above all others and no spot is guaranteed. Having an opinion is good, but too much fervour is not recommended. Having conversations concerning the evolution of jazz over glasses of Moscato may earn you some respect but you must do so without pretentious mien (who uses ‘mien’ anyway??). You have to be your best self, always. It’s this rhetoric of: are you on my level yet?

We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak and not to please ourselves. Each of us should please our neighbours for their good, to build them up.

– Romans 15:1-2