The intensity of criticism

Sometimes you just have to put yourself out there. Neck on the line, balls to the wall, pedal to the metal, and not a backwards glance.

Offering myself up for criticism--true reflection in the harshest and brightest of lights--is often the hardest thing I ever have to do. Harder than eating no carbs for two weeks. Harder than breaking up with someone who is poisonous, but so addictive. Harder than saying goodbye to an addiction. Harder than really saying no to myself, putting down the keys when I'm too drunk to drive. Some of the aforementioned come with age (maybe) and some of it was learned through hard lessons. But what each has in common is that at the time I thought it was the hardest thing I ever had to do. And each one's passing has resulted in my being a better person, a stronger person, a more truthful person.

If every scar is a battle wound, I am an evident warrior.

When I was a little girl, my teacher asked me if I knew what the strongest material on Earth was. I had just leaned this--diamonds are stronger than any other organic material--but instead of answering correctly I said, "Human flesh. Because it heals."

It hurts, but it heals.