It’s on you.
That is where it starts. That is where it ends.
It’s on you and what you want, and how hard you are willing to hustle, and how relentless you are going to be when they tell you to give up.
Because people will tell you to give up.
They’ll look at you with crooked faces. They won’t understand your drive. And they are going to look to bring you down because they don’t know any better. They haven’t had the guts to go for it themselves and so they will try to tell you no. Impossible. Not worth the time.
Forget them. In the nicest, sweetest way possible, forget them and all the little barriers and boundaries they try to place on this life of yours.
Wake up. It’s your life.
You owned it yesterday. You gleaned the freedom today. Stop acting like the world runs…
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At 3:07pm on a Monday afternoon, while sighing restlessly alongside other anxious Target customers, I quit Christmas.
I realized I had ruined Christmas. Straight messed it up. Mangled it. Done it a disservice. Boxed it, botched it, in a way I never thought possible. And so there, with my hands full of snowman-decrepit cards that prove to be the only thing left when you shop the week before and a slew of sweaters I never actually needed, I placed my basket on the floor and I walked out of the store. I quit Christmas on the spot.
This is the point in the post where I apologize profusely to Target store employees for being "that" girl and overdramatizing my quitting of Christmas to the point of leaving stale merchandise in the middle of the floor for y'all to pick up. I am sorry. Very sorry. It was necessary for the…
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I received a letter the other day. (Comical, right?)
It was the kind of letter that is painful to read because it stirred up old feelings and made me believe, for a mere moment or two, that I was right back in the muds of my yesterday. That, at any moment, I could be vulnerable to pulling the thread that would lead to my unraveling once again.
I stood still, I put the phone in my pocket, I breathed in to read:
“I’m tired of feeling like this but cannot seem to break the cycle of blah. Part of me does not want to get better because I don’t want to get better just to fall apart again. How can I even begin to find something else to define me, when I feel so empty right now? Not that I expect you to answer or know the answers. I’ve…
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It takes a thick stew of Guts & Grace to describe the way my footsteps took to falling as I walked away from God.
As I slammed the door. As I crumbled & crawled & kept my head down so that He would not see me go. Mumbled words of hesitation beneath my breath, “Please don’t follow. Just let me go.”
It’s a dance we’ve done for ages and He knows my footwork well.Knows that I bruise so easy. Knows that I frustrate when I cannot see His plans & all the things He has for me.
And if you ask me one question about this God & I, I will tell you true: God has always had to pour out big ol’ carafes of assurance out upon me. Assurance that I am His. That I am loved. That I am needed. Of all things, I have doubted these the…
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