I used to run from my emotions like I was running from a house on fire.

Fast. Urgent. Wanting to escape.

Yet no matter how far or how fast I went, they were still there.

If anything, they grew louder, more present, and harder to ignore.

More insistent.
More present.
Harder to ignore.

Until I learned something different.

I used to hate myself. I used to think I was ugly, fat, and stupid. I was cruel to myself.
I don’t know where I learned this, but it was how my thoughts and behavior treated me. I called myself names, berated myself, and told myself how horrible I was.

My first marriage was an out-picturing of my inner world. My husband, in his own way, showed me how I was treating myself. I left him because of the abuse—only to discover that I was the source.