Somber Sunday

Sometimes she can not see beyond the lies.  The tales she tells herself.  

The list is long and brutal.  Typical in a way.

Not good enough.

Not pretty.

Not thin. 

Not smart enough.

It's the kind of list that goes on and on, made up and not real.

It's filled with the what if's and I'll never be's.

I'll never finish.

What if I fail.

I'll never be loved.

We tell ourselves plenty of lies.  All the time.

We can't seem to learn how to be nice to ourselves.  Say nice things.  Believe in ourselves.

We can't find ways to give ourselves the benefit of the doubt.  

This is you.  It's me.  It's all of us.