I may not see the end of the heat, or may not feel good both physically (stupid asthma) and emotionally (I need to grow up) but I’ve faith that these will come to pass.
That I can walk with a hop again, that I can welcome the weather without so much as a curse, that I won’t have to keep nursing my weak lungs and I will again let people in without second guessing their intentions.
Indeed, this too shall pass. And perhaps I can for a second time, be the old me again. The ‘Me’ that never hesitates to find my place under the sun, without thinking of the gloom of having to do things alone, in short just the carefree me. The ‘Me’ that can go out to the world without having to think of my bruised confidence.
I miss the old me: The one who’s not burned, the one who’s not lied to, the one who’s not scared, the one who doesn’t sit on stand-by hoping for attention and the strong self-content me.
I can find her again, if I look hard enough. If I dust myself off. If I believe enough that this will not only pass but I will get what I’ve been hoping for. What I deserve.
But I need to take courage and trust all the signs set specially for me. That there are things, people and events that I have to walk away from – that I need to let go. It will hurt like hell, that’s for sure, but until I do that, deep within me, I know I will never get better.
I will struggle to get back the old me. If it’s the last thing I do.
Faith find me. Courage my beating heart.