If I were to go back to the beginning of the week (or the summer for that matter), there would always be adjustments that I would make. Maybe I would have found (or made) time to exercise and get stronger. I might have given myself time to travel or use that same for other kinds of self care. But no matter how we try, there is no going back and redoing what we have done.
The very act of remembering and reflecting on choices, is my way of honoring them and myself. No one could be harder on herself than I am, but at the end of week, it seems imperative to admit choices were mine (good or bad) and honor that they were my own. In an act to set free my own regret, I must admit that I made the choices because of no other voice then my own.
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