My Co-Star said to treat myself today. And I did. I treated myself to good food—two serves of spaghetti, two fried chicken breasts, and good coffee.

Today, I treated myself to forgiveness and understanding—that things happen to teach us something valuable. Mine is acceptance. Accepting that things don’t always go your way, even when you truly believe you’re in the right. Sometimes, that’s just luck. Accepting that people act and speak based on how they feel in the moment, and that people are flawed—not out of malice, but because they are human.

Accepting that people can be mad at what you did without hating who you are, and that their emotions are theirs to carry, not yours to fix. Accepting that growth often comes from discomfort, and peace comes from letting go of the need to control outcomes.

Today, I accepted that my memories are precious, and that writing them down won’t diminish them—it will honor them. I accepted that my ordeal isn’t entirely my fault. I am who I am because this is my personality, my lived experience, my humanity. My disorder does not define me; it is only a part of my story, not the sum of who I am.

Today, I treated myself by eating my heart out. A thing I do that deeply matters to me.