self portrait as testimony

It’s a roughpatch. Someone hates me for no apparent reason. I grew up thinking my parents hated me, but that I somehow caused it. It’s a very heavy cross to carry. If your own parents can’t love you, how will anyone ever? I am loved and loving and lovable, here, at 61. A miracle of Love.

I was just thinking, that no matter what has happened to me, or will happen to me, whatever I even *think* happened to me ~ it has done nothing to mar my perfect beauty. And this is true for everyone and all of us. Isn’t that a powerful epiphany?