It's okay. It really is okay to be a mess. I've spent all these years feeling that I was NOT OKAY because I'm a mess. But there's value in the mess, wisdom, beauty, jewels (of a nonmaterial sort) in the mess.
I feel like I might actually like myself one of these days.
This sounds so crazy, but it's so important. It's part of life to be messed up; everyone is messed up.
I've always felt so alone in my messed-up-ness, like no one else in the world was messed up.
But everyone is messed up; maybe no one else in the world is messed up exactly the same way I am to exactly the same degree I am, but everyone is messed up in some way.
You have no idea what a revelation that is.
This book, this thin little $12 book, made me see that even if I'm a mess, I'm okay anyway. And not in the cheesy, "I'm okay, you're okay," kind of way. I'm beautiful and wise and worthy and messed up and sad and crying all at the same time.
She explains it a lot better than I do.
Now I see why her writings came so highly recommended for survivors of abuse. We, as a group, tend to view ourselves as damaged goods, broken in some fashion by what we have survived. But with simple (and sometimes really funny) words, Pema Chodron makes it all seem to make some sense. It's hard to explain, but I feel so clean, and not because I took a shower. *grin*
She even used some of the same metaphors I use to describe my terrors and my trouble. I'm just amazed.
I'm off to go re-read, I think.