I grew up constantly distracted by the men in magazines I was supposed to idolize. I'd compile my small allowance in a desperate attempt to buy designer clothes so I could fit in with society's perception of perfection.
I thought that if I could have what others had, I just might be enough.
Back then, I thought I was broken. And more often than I like to admit, I still fail to remember that I'm complete and whole today.
Beneath the pit in my stomach that forms in the wake of these moments of insecurity is an inner knowing that I am not broken and I do not need to be fixed. It's a knowledge that I come from love even if I don’t always remember it.