Five years ago, at 41, I was a very different woman. Not necessarily on the outside, although the pictures might suggest otherwise, but on the inside. I had spent nearly two decades married, 16 years as a stay-at-home mom, and somewhere along the way, I’d lost something I didn’t even realize was missing. My confidence. My voice. My belief in myself. And perhaps the saddest part? I had allowed someone else’s opinion of me to become my own inner dialogue.
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