Dear Reader,
You are beautiful, and you are loved.  Maybe you already know this.  But if you forgot, let me remind you that every night moonlight reaches toward your sweet face to touch the curve of your eyelashes when you sleep.  The stars flicker just as much for rock stars, presidents, and kings as they do for you. 
 
You probably have no idea how many people secretly hope to cross your path just to get a glimpse of your face or just to hear your laugh.  There is someone who is soothed by holding your hand.
 
There are countless people from the history of your life who will never forget you because you meant something to them.  If you have ever had a pet, you have been loved beyond measure by a being who doesn’t have the words to tell you that the caress of your hand makes life worth living.
 
If your face suddenly went away, there are people who would ache every day just to see you one more time.  You are so precious that if you disappeared, your absence would scar someone’s soul forever.  Haven’t you ever cherished someone completely without telling them how much? 
 
You can give something to this world that nobody else can give just by being who you really are.
 
Sincerely,
Jennifer 

​I’m tired telling myself I’m good or bad based on a number on a scale.  I’m tired of telling myself I’m good or bad based on what I eat.  I’m good if I eat a salad, but I’m still good if I eat an ice cream sandwich.
 
This idea that I’m good no matter what size my pants are is something that I’m really focusing on because I want to feel more keenly my inherent worth, and I think this is the key to actually treating myself like I’d treat a friend.
 
Does this mean I’ll never lose weight or that I’ll give up on sorting my clutter?  No.  It just means that I want to stop punishing myself for not being perfect.
 
It seems that no matter how old we are there is a little kid inside of us who wants to be good, who wants to be praised, and who wants to be loved.
 
Telling myself that I’m bad because I gained weight and my panties got tight makes me want some nachos.  I’m tired of punishing myself. Here’s a Good Girl Manifesto that I wrote for all of us good girls because we’re good & we don’t have to prove our worth to anyone.
 
If you’re a guy, and you’re reading this, there is goodness in you too.
 
GOOD GIRL MANIFESTO
 
You’re a good girl if nobody’s proud of you.
You’re a good girl if you’re proud of yourself.
 
You’re a good girl if you do your squats.
You’re good girl if you drive your ass to DQ for a Blizzard.
 
You’re a good girl if you work hard every single day.
You’re a good girl if you have a job where nobody sees the real you.
 
You’re a good girl if you eat until you have to unbutton your pants.
You’re a good girl if you can feel your hipbones on your mattress when you sleep.
 
You’re a good girl if you have a handsome man who loves you.
You’re a good girl if you’ve never had a man tell you how beautiful you are.
 
You’re a good girl if you can run five miles.
You’re a good girl if you wear yoga pants, and you’ve never done yoga.
 
You’re a good girl if you’re divorced.
You’re a good girl if you wish your spouse would join the circus and run away.
 
You’re a good girl if your fridge has moldy leftovers.
You’re a good girl if every picture in your house is free of dust.
 
You are a good girl no matter who told you that you were bad.
You’re a good girl & you never had to prove it to anybody.

I just moved home after teaching for a year in remote Montana where I was surrounded by wind, silence, very little traffic, and sometimes the sound of kids pounding a basketball at the courts at the school across from my house.
 
Moving home has been a shock to the system.  I can hear my neighbor’s phone ringing when I open my bedroom window, and I can hear some guy coughing early in the morning. 
 
I do my best thinking in silence, and moving home has been both good and totally overwhelming.  I’ve had no silence.  My clothes are not completely unpacked, and I have mounds of mail to deal with.
 
To try to relax, I took my kids to Yellowstone.  The weekend after that, I walked a half marathon.  Taking my kids to Yellowstone was cool, and we saw beautiful, amazing geysers.  Yet, the hoards of rude tourists fighting for parking spots unnerved me a bit.  Walking a half marathon was rewarding, but I was worn out.
 
Today, my kids went to summer camp for a week, and I walked for hours alone near a beautiful river.  As I walked surrounded by the sound of rushing water, and the flutter of little birds, part of me started to unwind to make space for all the things I need to do.  Today was the first time I had alone time since I came home.
 
I used to feel like a weirdo because I relished time alone.  In college I rented study rooms, so I could languish there for hours by myself reading books without being interrupted.  As a working mom, I feel guilty for needing time here and there just for myself, especially when there is always so much to do, and especially when so much depends on me. 
 
One of my friends who’s nearly 70 once gave me some great advice.  She told me to remember that I’m a woman with my own needs.  She said that if I have two days off, spend one day with my kids, and spend the other day on me.
 
So today, I walked along a river.  The mound of clothes I need to put away can wait one more day or maybe two.

​I do not like hurting other people’s feelings, but I no longer think other people’s feelings are more important than mine.  This was a huge revelation for me especially in romantic relationships.  I learned, the hard way, that I did not have to or need to be the one who made all the sacrifices or the one who did all the work.
 
Making all the sacrifices and working like a maniac didn’t earn me anything except exhaustion, resentment, and unhealthiness. Not love.  I’m a giver and a nurturer, but I don’t have to give all of myself to everyone else.
 
I can save some of my time and affection for me. The world will not end if I spend a day going nowhere, doing nothing or sleeping in.  I don’t often give these things to myself, but sometimes, I just need to do nothing.
 
Other times, I need to do something that I enjoy just because I enjoy it.  Last summer, I ran a 10k.  Sometimes, the only time I had to do my miles was when the sun was out full force.  As I huffed and puffed past Dairy Queen where people weren’t breathing hard and sweating, I thought, why am I doing this?
 
I realized I was running because it mattered to me, and that was enough.  I wasn’t running as a punishment, or to prove my self-worth.  I just wanted to feel the satisfaction of completing a 10k.
 
It’s okay if I do something that matters to me.  It’s okay if I stay home on a Saturday night and eat chips and salsa with my son and wear my pajamas all day. 
 
When I was in romantic relationships in the past, I too often found myself ignoring my own wants because of someone else’s preferences, and all I did was hurt myself.  This time that I have to myself is a gift, and I’m fortifying myself, gathering my strength.  Being more of myself and liking what I like will benefit every aspect of my life.
 
Tomorrow is the 4th of July.  I hope you spend it celebrating your own independence to do what matters to you.  If something is important to you, it matters.