Do you want to know how strong I am? Okay, I will tell you. First of all, I have been a single mother for over nine years. That’s right, nine years. Nine years without a protector, nine years without a partner, nine years without a guy to take out the garbage or fix the plumbing or move the furniture or assemble the toys or install the devices. I have had a few boyfriends, in the meantime, all of whom have definitively lived up to the “boy” in their name; one totally immature lunkhead after another. Even the one who was financially successful, even the one who claimed to have reached spiritual enlightenment. None of them wanted to know the real me, the strong me, the me who feels real feelings and has her own opinions. That’s okay, I allowed them to run their course and have their temper tantrums or shut me out cold. But the one thing I never let them do was to shut me down. I may have cried rivers of tears (for one, in particular), but I kept on feeling, and I kept on loving. Sometimes I didn’t know how to feel, so I used a drug to help me feel the good feelings, as well as the bad ones. Sometimes I didn’t love myself, but I clung to my God of True Love as a way to remind myself of all the good that lies inside me, even the parts I might not think of as “good,” at first. These days, I don’t use the drug anymore, but I hold onto my God of True Love to remind me that all the parts of me are valuable, because they are all a part of me. And sharing my truth with other people is like sharing my love and my light with other people, both the “good” and the “bad” parts. Who am I to judge what’s what, anyway? My God of True Love created all of it, and I have faith that love is good, so I guess I have faith that I am good, too. At the very least, I do know that sharing my truth makes me feel strong. And strong is a very, very good feeling. ❤️‍🔥— Y.B.D.