Growth is maintenance
I’m still recovering. I’m mindful of the fact that I’m breaking through cycles my family couldn’t pedal through.
What I fathomed to be the final time, turned out to be the furthest thing from such. Serenity washed away, as I served a way for my peace to never enter. On December 31st, 2016, I began a new cycle, one that would continue pass that moment. Despite writing out of mindfulness, I didn’t consider logical senses and the time it takes to get to that mental place.
The depth in my eyes was pain in disguise. I became addicted to pain because I thought it was impossible to evade such realities. I questioned the man in the sky and asked why he did such harm to me rather than offer harmony. Too many questions and not enough resolution on my end and an ego ready to start at any time.
I chose peace. I didn’t choose to work for it. Instead, I remained ignorant to an ignited, internal flame. The next two years would be much of the same pain. 2019 would be the knock on the door, with the package at the steps, with directions — reading as this:
You found the seeds but didn’t harvest the hardest part. You parted ways without saying goodbye to all that has been hurting you. You held a funereal with nothing in mind for the eulogy. You wanted to travel but didn’t pick a destination. You stood for a general piece of everything and ended up with pieces of nothing. You violated your patience, for you still sought after validation. You found peace within others and ultimately ignored the pain buried deep within yourself; distractions happen.
I realize, there still lies trauma, depression, and fear accumulated since an adolescent. No antidepressant can conquer such harsh suppressing. I prayed less and questioned more about my “nonexistent blessings.” 2019 became a harsh lesson. These lessons led to everything exploding in my face and the external death of of it all.
“We don’t recover from toxic childhoods in a single day, it’s a process filled with little wins that takes a time, commitment and patience.” — E.B. Johnson
I’m still recovering. I’m mindful of the fact that I’m breaking through cycles my family couldn’t pedal through. My training wheels are still on, but I still go forward. There’s a lot that won’t be fixed by tomorrow, but, I’ve begun the process. With that understanding, I give myself patience, divinity and the love needed to work through it all. I’ve cried, laughed and questioned my existence, for even at my lowest, I am undoubtedly a gift to earth. All praise to the most highest.
Goodbye, 2019. I’m thankful for preservation.