AKReal

POSITIVE SELF-TALK ・THAT CONVERSATION YOU HAVE WITH YOURSELF

POSITIVE SELF-TALK ・THAT CONVERSATION YOU HAVE WITH YOURSELF

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We all do it, talk to ourselves.
Out loud or in our heads, we’re constantly in a conversation with our inner critic and/or bestfriend. Sometimes we’re marvelous and channelling light from all different angles, while other times we’re hopeless or not enough. Our inner dialogue determines how we conquer our day and deal with conflict.

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IN 17 MINUTES, LISA NICHOLS WILL BLOW YOUR MIND 1000+ TIMES

IN 17 MINUTES, LISA NICHOLS WILL BLOW YOUR MIND 1000+ TIMES

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The world is following your example on how to treat you. How you treat you, the world is going to follow your lead. 

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DEAR “OLDER” CROATIAN PEOPLE, STOP SAYING THIS TO ME.

DEAR “OLDER” CROATIAN PEOPLE, STOP SAYING THIS TO ME.

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When you’re a boy, it doesn’t matter which sibling gets married before because the theory doesn’t apply when you’ve got a dick.

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ONE YEAR SOBER ・ HOW I SUCCEEDED IN ALCOHOL ADDICTION RECOVERY

ONE YEAR SOBER ・ HOW I SUCCEEDED IN ALCOHOL ADDICTION RECOVERY

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“I will spend the rest of my life repairing this damage.”

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EDITOR’S LETTER – SEPTEMBER ・12 MONTHS LIVING IN CROATIA, WHAT HAVE I LEARNED?

EDITOR’S LETTER – SEPTEMBER ・12 MONTHS LIVING IN CROATIA, WHAT HAVE I LEARNED?

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One. Can you cook?

Two. Do you believe in God?

Three. Do you go to church?

I was in a conversation with my cousin over coffee one morning telling her that I just don’t understand Croatian boys, they kept asking me these stupid primitive type questions, I was literally confused. “You’re not dating Croatian boys, you’re dating Hercegovci, Adriana.” Problem solved & lesson learned. Now when a boy tells me they are from Hercegovina, I smile, nod and walk away.

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I’M A WRITER & ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

I’M A WRITER & ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

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When I write from my heart, I write for no one but myself. I don’t consider who I may hurt or offend, who may think lesser of me- Nobody is factored into my work when I write. I write to those wounds that open up and say “please heal me,” I write to that part of me that never felt it was enough. I write until tears fall past my cheeks and another layer of my hate for myself is unravelled. I write for my inner child, one who was always afraid to be transparent and always shamed for sharing her truth. I write to document my progress forward, sometimes even backward. I write to inform myself that I am no longer my pain, I am no longer it’s prisoner and each word I release into the world is another step closer to freedom- But I have a very long way to go.

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