What About You?

You have become desensitized to your own trauma. You have become numb to your own pain. You have become unaware of the heart beating violently in your chest, the screams that you hold down so nobody can tell that you’re dying inside.

Let it out. Feel your emotions and your hurt. Stop apologizing for your heartbreak.

You’re not coping. You’re not dealing. You’re not seeing that your life could be so much more, that there is a potential inside of you that could change the world. Understand that the words you speak to yourself are more powerful than what others say about you. You have allowed love and kindness to become the things that you give to everyone else, while your own heart and soul withers away.

Why? Why do you do this to yourself when you should be the first thing you take care of when you wake up in the morning? Why do you keep giving yourself excuses to be everything that you’re not while everything that you are fades away? You’re losing yourself in the struggle when that is exactly where you’re supposed to be finding yourself.

Stop. Have you forgotten that you are alive? Have you forgotten that you are important? Look at how far you’ve come and don’t waste another second. You have one life, one body that you need to love and cherish. It’s not too late.

What Society Doesn’t Teach Us

I’m becoming more aware of the little things, like the way the floor feels on the bottom of my feet as I tumble out of bed, or the way my daughter’s hair smells when she hugs me really tight. I have these epiphanies regarding my mortality that make me appreciate the things I’ve been gifted with more; lips to speak out of, lungs to breathe with, a heart that beats inside of my chest, legs that walk. I could go on forever about fortunes which lie in our grasps, privileges we often take for granted. But I think you understand where I’m going with this.

I am starting to notice things like the way my pupils change in reaction to the light. I look down at my hands and I see the lines that God carved into my palms, the intricate beauty planted into our skin that television never shows us.

It’s funny, really. Well…maybe not so much. Society doesn’t teach us about the beauty of stretchmarks upon a woman or a man’s skin, nor does it teach us about the wonders of an intelligent brain or about smiles that could light whole houses.

No. It teaches us what “good enough” is supposed to look like. Lies that we are taught to believe, fantasies that we are expected to measure up to. It’s all fake. Trust me, it is. None of it matters. One day, you are going to lose that perfect figure, that toned body that you wasted years struggling to obtain. Growing old is inevitable. Our bodies will shrink and wrinkle, wither and writhe into foreign shapes and forms, things that we no longer recognize. Our soul is what permeates eternity, the things that we stand for are what stay with us forever. Have you ever heard the saying, “It’s what’s on the inside that counts,”?

It’s damn true, people.

Stop wasting your precious time on trying to look the way television tells you to look and spend more time focusing on what’s going to make you happy, on what’s going to guide you through the darkness when you’re without any light. Those are the things that should matter; the little things. The things that we fail to recognize on a daily basis.

Appreciate those moments that are important in your life, so you don’t end up taking them for granted and regretting it forever. Kiss your kids goodnight and make sure they know that you love them. Call your grandparents or some other relative just so you can hear their voice.¬†Smile, because smiling is crucial. Forgive someone. Start repeating affirmations to yourself in the morning. Go grab a coffee with a friend you haven’t heard from in a long time, someone you’ve been meaning to reconnect with. Start that project you’ve been wanting to start for months or even years.

Just do some things a little differently. Focus on something you wouldn’t normally focus on.¬†You never know how it could change your perspective.