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So many times we imagine a person's lack of love for us to be a result of our own personal failure(s) when in truth it's a consequence of their own incapacity to love themselves.

Slow to Release

I realized how long I’d been holding on, and that my discomfort stemmed from my heart being ready to let go long before my head caught up to what that looked or felt like. Because all of these things I was absorbed by, they weren’t necessarily all bad. But the old songs, pictures, feelings, and beliefs, they no longer suited me, yet I continued to live life according to their rigid terms; as if they were holding a gun to my skull. That was the day I chose to walk away; to discover, learn, and grow; free of pretense and shame, old habits and routines. Untethered to the fear that I’m not worthy of the life my heart’s boldly been pulling me towards every night as I lie awake; its restlessness making me uneasy to the point of insomnia. The force of nature that had outgrown the dusty life I was offering it was stirring within me, demanding more, always more. That was the day I gave the burden of my past, both good and bad, to God, and walked with him hand in hand into this thing called living.

Just Because.

I stopped telling myself that life was mine for the taking.

I became burdened by the crushing blow of life, and it became impossible to recognize the positive in anything.

Self-love was replaced by self-loathing.

Gratitude replaced by self-doubt.

And my general zeal for all things good and true started eroding bit by bit into a parasitic worm of fear.

I told myself that life had nothing more to offer me than my daily routine of struggling to fall asleep and wake up, zombie-ing my way through work, and prescribing myself to dull evenings of monotony.

Occasions like dinner with friends and family seemed like a chore; just another thing to add to my laundry list of things exhausting my life source.

I was, and still kind of am, strung out.

I didn’t and still don’t quite know how I got to this point.

I think a big chunk of the answer lies in my frustration of the inability to fully comprehend what the answer to that question might be.

I like answers.


I overindulge in my ability to analyze the shit out of myself.


So when I can't do just that, when I'm at a loss for why exactly I feel so aggravated by life, it's hard for me.


But it's made me realize a few things:


No one is meant to fully answer a question like that about themselves.

-No matter how far you've come, you'll never have everything figured out at any given point in time.

-We are fluid creatures, ever-changing and evolving, never meant to adhere to a rule book.
-And no matter how strong trials and tribulations make you, you still won’t have the strength to face all of life’s hurdles at once.
-Being able to financially support yourself doesn’t mean you don’t need emotional support.

-No amount of self-help articles will help you if you're not willing to put in the effort of helping yourself. 
-There's no quick fix for learning how to love and be good to yourself.

Everyone loves to recite the definition of insanity- doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

 It dawned on me the other day that lately I’ve acted truly insane.

I’m so sick of self-loathing, doubt, and fear acting as the controlling factors of my life.

I’m ready for love, gratitude, and truth to take the stage again.

All of life is a cycle. Today I’m vowing to rinse all of the grime that’s built up, reinvent and refocus my perspective and purpose, and repeat.