At what age did you finally realize that “It’s not like it’s going to kill me” and “I’ll survive” were bullshit metrics for your decision making?
When did it occur to you that “I’m fine” depends very much on what one’s definition of “fine” is.
When did you decide that you might be interested in living in such a way that didn’t require actual imminent death for you to make changes, to seek help, support and resources?
When did you start boldly prioritizing your needs?
When did you begin to feel your worth?
Jaclyn Edds Konczal | January 2022