Tag: writing

Hey, hi, hello! Happy Wednesday! 💜

The more I move through this healing journey and actually pay attention to my inner world, the more I’m realizing just how mean I am to myself on a truly consistent basis. Being harsh, cruel, and hypercritical toward myself has been my default setting for so long that I didn’t even recognize it as cruelty — I just thought it was “being honest” or “holding myself accountable.”

Now that I’m waking up to it, I’m finding myself in a strange kind of grief. Grief for all the past versions of myself who were trying so hard and never got any credit. Grief for the younger me who constantly made herself small because it felt safer than taking up space. Grief for all the times I chose beating myself up over giving myself even the tiniest bit of compassion.

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📸 Boudoir Photos & a Brutal Inner Critic

On Friday, my boudoir photographer posted my sneak peeks in her VIP Facebook group, and I could not stop looking at them. At first, it was pure joy. I felt proud, powerful, and honestly kind of in awe of myself. Four out of the five photos were absolute bombshelly goddess energy — like, “who is that woman and can I be her all the time?”

And then, slowly, my brain did what it always does. It zeroed in on the one photo I didn’t instantly love. The one that felt slightly “off.”

Instead of soaking in the four images that made me feel incredible, I laser-focused on the one that didn’t. I picked it apart with the precision of someone who has decades of practice criticizing herself:

• “My boobs look kinda squished.”
• “My face looks weird. Why am I making that face?”
• “My leg looks weird.”
• And finally: “I look weird. I am weird.”

Before I knew it, that was the only photo I was looking at. The only one I was giving power to. I even brought it to Heath and asked, “Am I being too picky? Do you even like this one?”

He looked at me with so much sadness and love in his eyes and said, “You are so mean to yourself. Why are you so mean to yourself?”

And it hit me like a freight train.

I hadn’t even realized I was being cruel. To me, that voice is just… normal. It’s always been there. It’s the part of me that tries to “poke holes first” so no one else can. If I hurt my own feelings before anyone else gets the chance, at least I’m prepared, right?

Except… no. That’s just self-harm in a socially acceptable outfit.

I burst into tears because I knew he was right. I am so mean to myself. And all the excuses I’d used over the years — “I’m just pushing myself” or “I just want to be better” — suddenly felt really flimsy. If being this hard on myself actually worked, I’d be the best, happiest, healthiest version of myself by now. Clearly, it doesn’t work. So it’s time to try something different.

Once I caught my breath, I did the only thing I could think to do: I deleted the picture from my phone. If it wasn’t there, I couldn’t keep going back to it like a self-esteem punching bag. As soon as it was gone, I felt a tiny bit lighter. Just a tiny bit — but it was something.

We changed our plans for the evening, too. Instead of going out to dinner to “take advantage” of my hair and makeup, we stayed in. I put on my favorite comfy pajama set, we made cocktails, turned on Gilmore Girls, and just existed together on the couch. No performance. No expectations. Just nervous system recovery and cozy, quiet connection.

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🧠 Default Settings: Meanness, Pressure & Performance

The weekend was busy and social, and somewhere in all the noise, I slipped right back into those old patterns of meanness without even realizing it. That’s the thing about defaults — they’re sneaky. Cruel self-talk has been my baseline for so long that it doesn’t even register as “mean.” It just feels like the truth.

I stayed distracted on Monday because Heath was home sick, and I poured all my attention into taking care of him and being present with the dogs. I didn’t give myself much space to notice how I was feeling internally.

Then Tuesday came. Heath went back to the office, I had quiet time alone, and everything I’d been pushing down started to surface. I had a really hard time writing my post that day. Everything I put on the page felt flat or pointless. I felt heavy and tired and depleted and — surprise — I was being incredibly hard on myself the whole time.

And yet, even in that fog, I still showed up.

• I got on the walk pad.
• I made myself lunch.
• I did yoga.
• I showered and got dressed.
• I went to therapy, even though a big part of me wanted to bail and avoid, avoid, avoid.
• I wrote and published a blog post.

From the outside, that looks like a pretty solid day. But internally, I was criticizing myself the entire time. Telling myself I was being dramatic. Telling myself I should be fine because “nothing bad happened.” Telling myself I was whining, that I was wasting time, that I wasn’t doing enough, that I should be doing more. I am always telling myself I should be doing more. It’s exhausting.

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🛋️ Therapy, Awareness & the 1% Rule

When I sat down on the couch in my therapist’s office and she asked how I was, I decided to be honest: “I’m not great. I’m feeling pretty off.”

I told her everything — what I’d done that day, how I felt like it “wasn’t enough,” and how it frustrated me that even after doing all the hard things (yoga, walking, feeding myself, showering, brushing my teeth), I still didn’t feel better.

She stopped me and said, “Hey, that is HUGE.”

She reminded me that doing the hard things especially on the hard days is a big deal. Rationally, I know this… but emotionally, I had completely lost that thread. I had started worrying that because I still didn’t feel good, I must not be doing enough. Cue more tears.

I told her how I’d struggled to write my post earlier and how I felt like I hadn’t really said anything, but I hit publish anyway. She gently reminded me that my goal is authenticity — and sometimes authenticity looks like saying, “I don’t know what to say, I’m not feeling it today, but I’m showing up anyway.” Which, funnily enough, is exactly the kind of post I find comforting when it comes from other people.

I also told her about this pressure I feel to always be “on,” even when I’m alone. I’m constantly narrating my life in my head as if I’m prepping the story to be told later — like I have to be interesting enough to justify existing. It’s like I’m trying to prove to some invisible audience that I’m worth the space I take up. And honestly… it’s exhausting.

She asked if I wanted to try an awareness exercise, and I said, “Yes, please.”

She guided me softly — helping me notice my feet on the floor, the support of the couch, the pace of my breathing. Little by little, I felt myself drop out of my spinning mind and back into my body. I felt my chest open up, my heart rate slow down, my abdomen unclench. My breath got deeper. My shoulders finally relaxed.

When I got to a place where I could say, “I feel a little better,” she looked at me and said, “I need you to know that you did that. I guided you, but you brought yourself back.” Cue more tears.

Through sniffles I said, “I can do hard things.” And I meant it.

She encouraged me to keep practicing the awareness exercise on my own, especially at night. She told me to only aim for feeling 1% better — not 100%, not “fixed,” just 1%. If I feel 1% better afterward, that’s a win. Day by day, 1% adds up.

That felt doable. I can aim for 1%. I can reach for tiny shifts instead of total transformation overnight.

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☕ A Surprise Coffee & a Different Kind of Self-Care

This morning, when my alarm went off, I did not want to get up yet — so I didn’t. I let myself stay snuggled with the dogs and set a timer so I’d still have time to do my pages and make my shake before I needed to leave for the chiropractor. I just felt heavy. Not sad, not panicked, just… slow.

Today, for the first time since I started my chiropractic journey, I genuinely wanted to skip my appointment. But I knew I needed it, and I knew I would regret it if I didn’t go. My neck was still sore from the day before, so I got myself up, did my morning routine, and headed out the door.

When I was on the table getting adjusted, Dr. Lauren casually asked me what I was planning to do for the rest of the day, and I told her honestly — “I’m not really sure… probably nothing. I’m still recovering from socializing this weekend.” She immediately lit up and asked if I’d ever been to a little coffee shop nearby. I said no, and she absolutely raved about it. She told me the coffee was amazing and the vibes were immaculate. I made a mental note, but I also knew that I probably didn’t have it in me today. I just wanted to go home and go back to bed.

Then, as I was checking out, she called me over to the front desk and said she had something for me. She handed me a $10 bill and said, “Normally I have gift cards for the coffee place, but I’m out. Here — go get yourself a cup of coffee!”

I was absolutely floored. These people are just… unbelievable. I thanked them over and over, and at that point, there was no excuse. I had to go. I owed it to them — and honestly, to myself.

So I plugged it into my GPS and drove straight there.

And she was absolutely right — the place was adorable. Warm lighting, cozy corners, lots of natural elements. I ordered an iced lavender-honey latte called The Bee’s Knees. I paid with the $10 bill and then put all the change in the tip jar because there was no universe in which I was not paying it forward.

Once I had my coffee in hand, my instinct was to leave immediately — get in the car, head home, crawl back into bed. But something in me said, “No. Sit down. Take a minute.”

So I did. I found a little corner seat, pulled out my phone to start scrolling, and then remembered I had a journal in my bag. I swapped the phone for the journal, grabbed a pen, and started writing.

Earlier that morning I had seen a quote on Instagram that said:

“If you consider yourself self-aware but only acknowledge the things you need to change — and not the things you’re doing well — you’re not self-aware; you’re just being mean to yourself.”

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.

So while I was sitting there, sipping my lavender latte, I decided to make a list of things I know I’m good at. At first it felt silly and awkward and uncomfortable… and then it didn’t. Then it felt kind. Then it felt necessary. I could feel the tension in my shoulders start to melt with each new bullet point.

When I finally felt ready to leave, I got in the car — and instead of heading straight home, I just started driving. No plan. No destination. Just following whatever direction felt good in the moment. I explored a part of the metroplex I’d never seen before, windows down, coffee in hand, zero agenda.

Eventually, when I felt ready to actually be home, I plugged in my address and hit “avoid highways” so I could take the long, scenic way back.

By the time I pulled into the driveway, I felt more regulated than I had in days.

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🏡 Quiet Tasks, Gentle Wins

When I got home, I went into the backyard and played with the dogs for a bit. Nothing big, nothing fancy — just fetch and sniffs and sunshine. Then I came inside and started tidying up the house. Not because I “had to” or because anyone expected it from me, but because I genuinely wanted to.

Before he left this morning, Heath had specifically told me not to worry about the house, and to only focus on taking care of myself. So I didn’t go into productivity overdrive, I only did a few things that felt supportive, not punishing:

• I did the dishes and cleared out the sink.
• I stripped the bed and started washing the bedding.
• I ran the robot vacuum through the kitchen and living room.

And then I sat down to write this post.

What a difference a day makes.

Yesterday, I was struggling to find my words and remember my “why.” Today, I slowed down, focused on being present, let go of a lot of “shoulds,” and I feel so much better. Not perfect, not euphoric — just better. And that counts.

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💗 Learning to Celebrate ‘Better Than Before’

I keep having to remind myself that healing isn’t linear. I know this. I’ve heard it. I’ve written it. But I also forget it all the time. And while it would be easy to beat myself up for forgetting, that would be the exact opposite of what I’m trying to learn.

So instead, I’m choosing to gently remind myself each time I need to. I will keep showing up and doing the work. I will keep aiming for 1% better. I will keep practicing being kinder to myself — especially on the days when it feels the hardest.

I’m becoming a version of myself I’ve never been before. Of course I’m going to trip over my own feet. Of course I’m going to lose my balance sometimes. That’s how learning works.

Instead of criticizing myself for every stumble, I’m trying to be grateful for the lessons they carry. I am still very early in this healing journey, all things considered. Rather than berating myself for not being “further along,” I’m learning to celebrate that I’m already so much better than I was when I started — especially when I started this blog.

I am doing the work. Some days are messy and loud. Some are quiet and small. All of them are worth sharing.

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💬 Let’s Chat

Have you noticed places where your default setting is being mean to yourself? What’s one small, kind thing you could say to yourself instead today?

📬 Want to follow along?

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Thank you, truly, for being here with me while I figure all of this out. Your presence means more than you know.

Love always,
Bailz 💜