I used to think I was too big. Like too tall, too chubby, too โ€œmuchโ€. When we moved to Seattle when I was 4 I had a thick Israeli accent, a big personality, and a sense the way I did things was the right way.โฃ โฃ But before that I lived on Kibbutz Lahav and knew practically everyone there. At 3 years old I could walk home from The Childrens House where we slept at night all by myself, and stop by neighborsโ€™ homes and ask for snacks. I was the largest kid in my age group, the clothing in the communal bins was often too small for me, and I consistently ate the most. But, I had the sense that I was fine the way I was. My size, my height, my way of being was who I was and there was nothing I needed to change. โฃ โฃ

Something happened when we moved to the States, or my new neighborhood in Seattle at least. I felt how different I was; how out of place. My parents were also displaced and nearing the end of their marriage. I absorbed what was around me and what wasnโ€™t anymore. I think thatโ€™s when I decided ๐˜ was what was wrong. I was what didnโ€™t fit in. โฃ โฃ Itโ€™s a feeling thatโ€™s been hard to let go of. โฃ Amazing how those messages (whether heard or felt or assumed) can stay with us. โฃ โฃ

How about you, what message did you absorb about yourself that has been hard to shake? โฃ

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