Sometimes, while lying in bed, tired, and unable to sleep, she counts failures. She can count personal failures like others count sheep. "I failed at...I failed at...I failed at...I failed at..." She's counted to tears. She's counted to nausea. She's counted to hysteria. It's a damn mean thing she does to her. She rehearses every pitfall, recounts every poor choice, recites every mistake then marvels when she can't sleep, questions her self-esteem, and wonders why she's self-doubting. Kind to others and awful to self, it's a special kind of crazy creating an exhausting mental hell...Self-love is standing with yourself, in all of your glory and folly, unwavering on your value, worth, and resilience. It's being willing to go toe-to-toe with anything or anyone, including self, who doubts that you, even with your humanity, fragility, and frailty, are created in the image of God. Fierce protection of Precious You from all that alienates self from love births a special type of freedom; it allows for a peaceful liberation.
