Waking up

I just wanted to share a dream I had a few days ago. It was after reading about Anne Frank at night before sleep, so that was the influence. It was a continuation of a dream pattern I’ve had where I am trying to hide from some danger, and I close myself off in some tight hiding spot. It keep me safe but it also keeps me trapped.  Well I this dream there was another woman with me and 2 young girls. And we were all hiding like Anne from the Nazis.  Well there we were all hidden and therefore imprisoned, and I was even able to lock the door real tight.  But at that moment I realized what was happening.  I felt the stress in me, and I just prayed.  I realized I was dreaming and I prayed to God to help me wake up. And just like that, I did.
I realized the meaning of my dream was that instead of facing my daemons in my dreams all I have to do is wake up from the spell we are all under that keeps us trapped in the conflict.. And that I’m waking up for me, but also for all women.  I can keep them safe by waking up. 

No words

I just read an article about a woman from Afghanistan who’s husband cut off her nose and ears as part of her ongoing abuse. I am so shaken by this. I have no words to describe it. I can’t even paste the link here, it’s just too painful. What can be done?

Dove Real Beauty Sketches

Women are their own worst beauty critics. Only 4% of women around the world consider themselves beautiful. At Dove, we are committed to creating a world where beauty is a source of confidence, not anxiety. So, we decided to conduct a compelling social experiment that explores how women view their own beauty in contrast to what others see.

Watch the whole experience at: http://dove.com/realbeautysketches
Join the conversation at: #wearebeautiful

And don’t forget: YOU are more beautiful than you think!

Dare to love it all.

This is perfect.


I spent the majority of my teenage years planning my breast augmentation.  All of the woman in my family were born with small breasts and rectified the situation at a young age. Why wouldn’t I do the same? Fix this flaw and enjoy the beauty and attention for decades to come.  At sixteen years old, I would research the best doctors, prices, and payment plans. Though I wore push-up bras and no one besides a couple of beaus had seen my breasts, my gaping bra was a constant reminder that I wasn’t a woman.  I so desperately wanted to feel the curves of womanhood.  

Here I am at twenty and somewhere along the way, I learned to love myself (even my breasts).  Though what men don’t realize is that a woman’s journey to love herself is purposeful, life-long, and exhausting.  Even after I was able to desensitize myself of…

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