I’m tired, and I didn’t realise I would have to work this hard.

Some people like me, some people don’t, and some people are completely neutral, and I understand all of those reactions because I’m intense, I’m direct, I care deeply, I probably talk too much, and I always seem to believe that people are capable of more than they believe themselves.
One thing many people don’t know about me is that I cry a lot, I feel things deeply, and over the years I’ve learned that crying has become a beautiful natural pain relief.
I cried as I looked through photographs of the star frustrated tears, “How do I keep doing this without burning out?”
I’ve held up the Star and watched thousands of people say the affirmations, and some can barely finish the very first one. It is one of the most exposing, vulnerable and strange experiences to stand in front of somebody who doesn’t really know you and saying the words while looking in the star. 
For the first six years, I held the Star up and watched them. When I went to sleep, I would think about the people and I would remember the pain, the sadness and the struggle in their eyes. 
At the beginning, it was children as young as five who couldn’t look at themselves and say, “I am somebody.” Then there was a woman in her seventies. I was speaking at a centre for women who had experienced domestic violence. When I held the Star up for her, she said every line beautifully, but afterwards she came over to me and pulled me aside and said, “I wish I’d had those words thirty years ago. Maybe I’d have left sooner.”
Those moments replay for me. I do my absolute best to hold it steady and encourage the person in front of me to keep saying the words, because I know that for some people those words are harder to say.
What most people don’t know about me is that by the time I got to 2022, I couldn’t take any more of those eyes. I couldn’t keep watching people struggle with themselves. 
If you ever watch me holding the Star now, you’ll notice that I hold it directly in front of my own face, so all I can see is the back of the Star. That means I have to trust that while they’re saying the words, they’re still looking at themselves. I know it’s common for people to reach the, “I like myself,” and look away. I would gently say, “Look again.” Now, I have to risk not knowing.
Today I had the pleasure of sharing a piece of lemon drizzle cake with the wonderful Lorraine Toni Morris, and while I was telling her about the Star with wet tear filled eyes, she smiled and said, “Every time you give someone a star, you’re sowing a seed.” That was all I needed to hear.
So I will keep sowing seeds for as long as I possibly can. I can honestly say that I’m tired, but I won’t stop, because sometimes all it takes is a little faith, even if the faith is as small as a mustard seed.