11 years in the blink of an eye

September 3, 2017. 11 years ago, I could hardly imagine I would be here: 25 and thriving. My mantra for this day the past few years has been, "You are not defined by the bad things that happen to you." One of the many thing my therapist when I was a teenager drilled into my brain, over and over again. 

"This was not your fault. Yes, it happened. Yes, it hurts like hell but you need to talk about it. This. Was. Not. Your. Fault." 

Some days I want to sit down and write a letter to Cassie, my therapist when I was seventeen. She taught me how to tame the PTSD and the anxiety and the depression that run rampant in my head. I want to tell her about the apology I was so convinced I was never going to get. I want to tell her about everything coming full circle. 

To celebrate and not give myself over to my own darkness today, I broke out the red lipstick. I wore it to the grocery store, for selfies in the driveway after, and work it all night at work. My coworkers were surprised at the pop of color, but it did its job. I was motivated by 30 second dance parties and the power of confidence. 

Do something nice for yourself on your bad days. It is the best way to celebrate the passing of time and the process of healing.