I am Me. In all the world, there is no one else exactly like me. Everything that comes out of me is authentically mine, because I alone chose it -- I own everything about me: my body, my feelings, my mouth, my voice, all my actions, whether they be to others or myself. I own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears. I own my triumphs and successes, all my failures and mistakes. Because I own all of me, I can become intimately acquainted with me. By so doing, I can love me and be friendly with all my parts. I know there are aspects about myself that puzzle me, and other aspects that I do not know -- but as long as I am friendly and loving to myself, I can courageously and hopefully look for solutions to the puzzles and ways to find out more about me. However I look and sound, whatever I say and do, and whatever I think and feel at a given moment in time is authentically me. If later some parts of how I looked, sounded, thought, and felt turn out to be unfitting, I can discard that which is unfitting, keep the rest, and invent something new for that which I discarded. I can see, hear, feel, think, say, and do. I have the tools to survive, to be close to others, to be productive, and to make sense and order out of the world of people and things outside of me. I own me, and therefore, I can engineer me. I am me, and I am Okay.
Alles kuu tagasi, isadepäeva paiku, kirjutasin oma tunnetest enda isa osas kuidagi väga konkreetselt ja karmilt. Eile, tema surma-aastapäeval surnuaias käies, olen hakanud aga oma tunnete ja emotsioonide suhtes teatud sorti süütunnet tundma. Alles 18ndal mõtlesin, et see on vist esimene aasta, kus see nädal mind niimoodi rivist välja ei löö ega tekita seda rasket tunnet hinges, mis seni on alati…
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