Purpose, joy, love.
Annoyingly, my name is Amanda, and means "beloved"...
Category Talking to Myself
Read MorePurpose, joy, love.
Bags and boxes (aka transitions).
whaddaya say to taking chances, whadda you say to jumping off the edge... be open, and maybe it gets easier.
“I’m born. I die. I’m born.”
If you're a "Doctor Who" fan too, hi. It's day... well this post took a few days to write, but it's Day 10 of an Enneagram-based journal.
Did I fail to talk about… failure?
Not sure if I'm journalling this thing right... I'm supposed to come to the conclusions I already am at... yeah?
Not sure if I’m going with the exercise or avoiding myself completely…
Day 6, and I also go on a detour. Is that... avoiding being with myself?
A one-woman show.
"Fleabag" happened, as well as Day 5's befriending anxiety exercise.
From love to identity.
I started talking about love, and I ended up talking about identity. Perhaps they're the same thing.
Already perfect. Already beautiful.
Day 2 of "Forty Days On Being A Seven" and it's time for nurturing, acceptance, love.
I go looking for home and I find… the world.
"Forty Days On Being A Seven": Day 1. What does it mean to be home with yourself?
I am ranting, apparently for something good.
It's late, I am tired, and words are coming out of me for those reasons. Or so I thought.
It had to end with lessons.