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I was driving to work this morning thinking about my conversation with a friend over dinner the night before. I was thinking about how I can choose to believe in myself or choose to believe there is something wrong with me. I can’t prove it either way. Either I’m amazing and beautiful, strong and courageous, or, I’m seriously fucked (i.e., a depressive, worthless fraud). It’s a matter of belief. Of faith.

Then, I remembered what my life is about.

I remembered who I am and what matters to me.

I remembered my meaning.

I remembered the things I forget nearly everyday that make up the heart of me.

And then I sang. I played the cheesy country song I decided is my life’s anthem 3 times in a row while I screamed along at the top of my lungs.

Then, I decided to fall in love with myself.

I decided to spend this next year of my life falling head over heels, madly in love with me.

I danced in my car a bit.

Then, I went to work and a made a difference in more than one person’s life.

It was an incredible day. It was Valentine’s Day.

It’s a day when I might have expected to feel sad about how alone I am. A day when I might have pined for the love that is absent from my life and has been for a good, long time. I could have thrown one hell of a pity party today.

The truth is, I’m someone who wants to change the world. For today, I actually believed that I can. I did wish for flowers or affection today; I wished a little for someone in my life to love, but mostly, I was just grateful. I smiled today, and I meant it. I had a whole day of feeling good about who I am. There’s no better gift for me (though the cupcakes I  bought on my way home kinda kicked ass).