I like that I can get even the most reticent of students to participate in class and feel good about having done so.

I like that people know within just a few minutes that my praise is never hollow flattery–I mean exactly what I say and say what I mean. If I tell you that something is good, it is.

I like that when I bake people exclaim constantly over how good it is… whatever it happens to be.

I like that I have managed to maintain friendships with people who are far away, who have moved, who have had every reason to stop talking to me–but I won’t let them leave my life. Because people matter.

I like that I pick up on dance stuff rather quickly. I like that I can follow. I like that I can lead. (Ok, so I’m not that great at leading yet–give me time!)

I like that I can read quickly and remember almost everything.

I like that I no longer allow my family to abuse me. It was difficult to stand up to them, but I feel like I have saved me.

I like that I can talk about having been assaulted. It has been an incredibly scary thing but talking about it has not only helped me heal, but my openness has helped quite a few other people feel like they can tell me their story and that helps them heal.

I like that I can faciliate people having cathartic experiences through bdsm. I feel that it is a different skill set than just beating the hell out of someone and I am specifically good at helping people work through difficult emotions.

I like that people trust me with their secrets. I feel like I am trustworthy.

I am proud of myself for prosecuting my father despite all the difficulty it caused and the fact that it lead to both his death and my brothers. Neither death was my fault, but all those events were related. I am still glad I did it. I needed to.

I like that someone can tell me that when they look at me they see a scared little girl and I am not insulted. Because I know that little girl. She is my friend. She is not as scared as she used to be and she is becoming more friendly all the time. I am glad that I am not ashamed of her.

Liking me can’t be just about my looks.

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Now, you. Yes… you. The one reading this. What do you like about you? You know that this got you thinking, so share.