Today I am strong. I am not falling prey to a frail mind or a dark worry. I am not defined by either of those things, and I know that I never have to be. Being alone in a crowd of people or bench-pressing the burden of excessive anxiety are no matches for me. I am here, and I am standing. I know what I can handle, and I don’t understand hopeless anymore.
My brain tells me that change is horrifying, that I should cower and crumble in it’s wake. My heart wants adventure—to explore the ever-expanding abyss of creation that I have not yet imagined. It is a conflict I have tried to mediate for as long as I can remember. It is usually a stalemate, and I can’t go forward or back from it. But I finally understand.
My heart made a really big decision. She did something on her own, too fast for the brain to bear down worry and hesitation. It was the first time this happened, but what a heck of a time for it. She decided how the next chapter of my life was going to begin. She took the hard way. The way that would finally change me into the person I always knew I could be. She was taking me to Australia for four months. On my own, vulnerable to crippling depression. Via a fifteen hour plane ride, trigger of exasperating panic.
Life didn’t approve. Life held up a halting fist every time my heart made a move toward destiny. Money I didn’t have, medicine I couldn’t get in time, forms that had to be filled out over and over again, the fear of loneliness. Life tried really hard. But my heart led me to a new perspective.
I used to think signs had to be obeyed. Bad omens had to be acknowledged, the issues avoided. Life couldn’t throw any moving signs at me this time around. Each warning worried me at first. Yet before long, I saw them as reasons instead. Reasons why I should go for it anyways. To prove that I could follow my heart even when life didn’t want me to. What harm would come from trying? Why should I give up?
That’s when I realized something really important. I have never given up on anything. I’ve sat around and moped. I’ve contemplated all the situations in which I just wanted to throw in the towel, give up faith in everything. But I never actually did. I never stopped. I always kept going, even when it was the last thing I wanted to do.
I am strong because I keep pushing, no matter what. I fall (a lot), but I never stay on the ground. I’m a roller coaster sometimes, and that makes me tired and frustrated with myself. I’m forgetting that each time I go up, I get higher than I did the last time. And the falls get less stomach-wrenching and terrifying. Because I keep getting stronger.
I don’t know about tomorrow. I don’t know how I’ll feel. I might feel like a snail without it’s shell. I might feel like a mountain. But that’s something I want to take on tomorrow. Not today. The important part is that I’m smiling right now. I am happy. I know how to be happy. I know how to be strong.