I don’t live a conventional life. I never have.
Maybe it’s not in the cards for me, or maybe it’s my personality, but nevertheless I am not what you would call “normal”.
Not that I haven’t tried to fit myself into the normal box. I have. But I am wholly convinced that it was an experience that almost killed every piece of light in me.
Sometimes I wonder whether finding my true self was a blessing or a curse. I mean, following my heart and chasing my dreams hasn’t exactly been easy. In fact, it’s been the most gut wrenching, emotionally painful, relationally tearing, societally rejecting experience of my life.
But… I had to do it.
Now that I know who I am there’s no turning back. To admit defeat and let myself sink into a rhythm that is not me would be the death of my alive spirit.
But to run in my own direction requires an incredible amount of self-belief. I have to be fueled by my inherent truth alone. There is no outward reinforcement taking place. It all comes from within.
I have often thought of my belief like sand I’m carrying in my hands. And it’s running through my fingers and slipping away, as I charge forward at my fastest pace hoping that I will reach my destination before the sand runs out.
But I have found that the sand often runs out before I get there. And what do I do then?
Truthfully, I usually stop dead in my tracks, get into my bed, and feel sorry for myself for a little while.
But there is a warrior in me. A piece of my heart deep down that refuses to give way to anything less than fabulously alive.
You see, I have tasted alive. I have bathed in its existence. And it is worth any desert I have to cross.I have tasted alive and bathed in its existence. It is worth any desert I have to cross. Click To Tweet
So when I am laying in bed, despair washing over me, I will dig deeper. I will find the part of my being that can conquer any obstacle standing in my way, and I will grab onto it.
“Believe. Just be strong enough to believe, and your mind will do the rest,” I tell myself so that I can stand.
And new sand fills my hands. A small pile, but enough to move forward, so I can walk on, because the journey is not over yet.