Somebody greeted me and held their hand out. I shook it, because it was the right thing to do, looking the man in the eye.
“You’ve got a grip, you’ve got eye contact. You’re gonna go far kid.”
“I don’t think so,” I say calmly. He smiles.
“I’ve never met anyone as persistent as you and as dedicated. What makes you most endearing is your want to change. We all see you fighting it everyday and you never let your plateau control you.”
I went to the elementary school today to drop some papers off and the principal calls me in.
“I’ve never met a person more persistent, you’re going to go far in life.”
I’ve always been akin to running barefoot and having the ground strike my feet. I’d like to think I’m in tune with the ground and the air.
I breathe in and I breathe out. I’m learning how to incorporate the peace my feet feel striking the ground to become peace in my heart.
It’s been about two years since I last posted about a loss. In my profession it’s a common topic. We talk about it lighter than we need to but the seriousness is still there.
Its harder when the loss isn’t someone who wears the same clothes as you but they carry the same blood. You can’t comfort them because you don’t know them. You don’t know their relationship.
I want to be a lightbringer again. I want to be the hopeful that can and will protect. But I need to find and protect me first.
I fence. I’m not good at it but I think it has a lot to do with my insecurity.
It shows in fencing. And as soon as I begin to doubt I lose.
I lose every match I get on.
I woke up today feeling small. My voice lost in the wilderness and I tried to scream.
The little voice of insecurity had come back. The little voice of insecurity had taken over everything.
And the most selfish thing is to sacrifice yourself freely to save another person.
It shows you have no respect for yourself.
For the accidental message telling me that you’ve moved on.
And I can too.