I want to remember the sweetness and light that appear as the dark storms of recognition and heaviness begin to dissipate.
I feel a deep and resonating expansion in my chest as the crippling masses of trauma are liquified and pour out of my body through tears. My lungs start to feel cavernous and I breathe more deeply and with greater satisfaction.
Layers of fear peel and blow away, possibility begins to peek through, and I hold a future I never thought possible in the palms of my open hands.
I sleep more soundly. I feel capable and ready. I dare to try new skills and shatter old beliefs. My fingers curl more protectively over a solid sense of self, and I challenge the inner demons, banishing them and their criticizing mantras.
The dark corners are still there. The sadness and insecurity and the crushing loss still press down on me. But I know I can rise, I know I will rise, and I once again believe in my future enough to fight for it.
This doesn’t happen everyday, but I relish it when it does. It makes me believe it’s all worth it, that I am worth it, that I’m making progress and that SOB isn’t going to win my future. I will.