rehab

The greatest gift I have ever received was the gift I gave myself.
The gift of allowing my mind the time and grace to prioritize my thoughts.
The ability to cancel plans to truly allow myself to understand the depth of the confusion, sorrow, and sadness.
A completely foreign concept for a big portion of my life.
I can sit here and just think?

When your plate is full, it's natural instinct to just grab another plate.
But what if we look at the current plate and reorganize? Remove? What if you didn't need to add half those items in the first place?
The best part is, you can always come back for more if you're not satisfied.
I'm not talking about food.

So many people are put in a state of fight or flight.
But what if I told you, you don't have to be?
What if I told you that when you are going through a huge life-altering experience, you can dedicate time to check in with yourself?
What if I told you that it will get worse before it gets better?
What if I told you that you will lose people in the process?
Would that steer you away?
Guess what, that's your fight or flight.

It's uncomfortable. Everything you've been told to avoid is everything I am telling you to do.
The ability to understand that the world continues to move in its entirety, and that if you take these moments to process and heal, it won't affect anyone else's journey but your own.

The concept is this: the world is moving while I am still. God is making decisions regardless of my state of motion. Once I move, the decisions move with me. Nothing was lost, just delayed.

What if I told you you'll be a better partner, friend, sibling, parent, child, and student if you did this?
What if I told you that it will only add value to your life?

Those lost in the process didn't matter—don't overthink it.

There is a bigger picture here. Carve out everything you've ever thought.
The good, the bad, the pretty, and the ugly. Bring it out. Face it.
Do not leave early. Do not stay late.
Allow some thoughts to be just that—thoughts. Shooting stars.
Allow others to be monuments that shape the skyline. Skyscrapers.

This is truly what getting to know myself has looked like.
A convoluted thought process that some days will have me lay in bed all day staring at the ceiling, wondering how everything went wrong. But other days, I feel so inspired I immediately write to an audience that probably gave up reading this when I brought up the plate. It's not linear. It is so scary.

But it helps. It heals. It works.