I am convinced that every person lives a secret life. It is not intentional, but consists of the inner thoughts and details that we confront when we are alone and that simply don’t seem relevant to share at a later time. I really think it’s these experience that have the greatest effect on who we are. When we look back at the most significant experiences in our life, it is unlikely that we will recall the random encounter with the sad looking lady walking alone on the street, the brief conversation with the man at the deli, or what we thought as a fire engine sped by, but at the same time, I really believe these are the experiences that affect how we interpret the ‘big things’ we’re more likely to report. Sometimes I feel like these small events are each a part of the puzzle to each one of us is. Those that we are closest to are those who care about making themselves familiar with the most intimate, ugly pieces that seem absolutely out of place, and yet equally contribute the completion of the puzzle. Those that love us the most are they who embrace those pieces and find beauty in them for their sake in the whole as opposed to focusing on their isolated ugliness. In this way, we are best able to love ourselves by allowing others to love us.