We don’t see ourselves as big enough, energetic enough, or simply enough. We define ourselves by our failures rather than our successes. We beat ourselves up, for whatever the reason.
No one else loves me bigger than their body. They may appreciate my work, my efforts, my writing, my whatever, but nothing I do, can do, will do, will ever make them love me bigger than their body.
I stand back, and in the strangest way look at my life, my children, my husband, the interaction of those around me, and the interaction of myself within those interactions. It’s all very surreal, the bigness of it, and yet the incredible smallness of it.