I read something today that said people who wrote a kind letter to themselves every day for seven days felt slightly uplifted for up to six months. So guess what I'm going to do.
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Dear Me,
It was a rough day, this much is true, and it was certainly a rocky start. It's been a long time since a Valentine's Day was spent utterly alone, and that wasn't an easy pill to swallow. But I figured out that it really wasn't anything to get terribly worked up about, and that was good.
And you know what else? I got out there and I worked out even though it was hard and it felt like it wasn't going to end. That certainly isn't easy, but I did it anyway, which pretty much makes me a champ. And I went and hung out with my friends as opposed to being antisocial on this most fateful Valentine's Day, so go me.
Overall, mission accomplished. Good job, me. Not a bad Monday, if I do say so myself.
Love,
Me.
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