If We Don’t, Who Will?

Sometimes the days when I am most productive are the days I feel like I’ve gotten nothing done, because of the sheer amount of time I’ve spent running around with my hair on fire. I guess adulthood, motherhood, and working in publishing are all like that.

So here I am with one book revised and out of the way, a short story boiling in the foreground (got to get to that before it boils over and spills something) and a ton of correspondence done. Where did the weekend go? Oh, yeah. I worked straight through it.

Great.

Still, I wouldn’t change it for the world. I’m supposed to be celebrating how far I’ve come over the next two weeks. Looking back I can see the changes, the peaks and valleys. There’s a long way yet to go, but for a while at least the hard part is behind me. At least I scraped along the bottom for a while, and now I can feel the lift gathering under my wings to help me back up.

I’m going to start my celebration with some leftover Indian food for lunch. And by putting on the two rings I just got. They are simple silver bands. On the inside of each is etched the simple words: I love you. They’re promise rings–and they’re a promise I’m making to myself. I am going to love myself. I need to be the first person I nominate for that job. I am tired of what Irene O’Garden so memorably called “the venom of the Bitch Within.” I deserve better.

So, dear Reader, this Thanksgiving week you can imagine me being grateful for how far I’ve come. Every person who’s ever been knocked down and wondered if they could ever get back up–you can. Here’s my hand. See the rings? Imagine the slight scratch of etched silver against your own skin, whispering I love you all day, every day. Let that be a gift you give yourself.

It’s a damn hard job. But if we don’t love ourselves, who will?

Over and out.

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