Happy New Year

2016

12/31/2015

I ripped out pages and cut out words. I wrote down goals and crossed them out. It was time for my annual vision board party of 1. With the way this year ended, it was the last thing I wanted to do - but seeing how it's shaped such great years since i began, I decided to swallow my pride and hurt feelings and get to it. I cut everything I wanted to use to encourage and inspire me in this new year. Because more important than any resolution is my commitment to positive energy.

I don't want to wish anything away or fill my thoughts with things I'll only truly commit to doing in the first two weeks of January. 2016 isn't about tangible goals for me. It's about creating a true, lasting change. It's about doing what I've never done before. It's about attaining the power needed to do for me, what no one else can. It's about digging within and pulling the inner most me to the forefront. 

My 2016 will be about freedom. It'll be about me breaking free from the bondage these past 26 years of life placed upon me, and fearlessly unbuckling these shackles. It's about leaving fear, doubt, worry, discontentment and envy right here in 2015. Right here on this page. It's about being cleansed and purified to be used wholly (holy). It's about unleashing the Christ hidden within me. The Christ that's been nestled uncomfortably underneath pride and ego, next to the last piece of my broken heart and the Bible scripture I forgot to recite before making bad decisions. 

My 2016 is about diving into this freedom. It's about choosing freedom. It's about ushering it into my life wrapped in a blanket of peace and happiness. It's about keeping that blanket so tightly wrapped that nothing can force these things out or away. It's about enjoying the 15th, 16th and 22nd day of the year, on its day and not before or after. It's about living in the now more than I ever have. Embracing each moment to create lasting memories. 

My 2016 is about development - not in the form of tangible things or accomplishments but soulfully. It's about planting seeds and nurturing them enough to bloom. It's about giving birth to a new woman - a better woman. It's about battling the things prohibiting me from doing so, and winning. 2016 is about winning. 

My 2015 was about purpose. It was about launching this here blog, trademarking this here brand, and finding a professionally fulfilling job. It was about listening to God's word and achieving all that He told me to. It was about fearlessly being led to the next part of my life. It was about floating from one goal to the next until my to-do list was entirely checked off and I could proudly spout my resume during networking events and on Facebook statuses. 

But my 2016 isn't about goals, or things or dollars. It isn't about projects, or jobs or people. It's about me. It's about not letting these things keep me locked in a cage any longer. It's about freeing myself, my mind and my spirit. It's about emptying myself of the lies, hurt, inadequacies, mistakes and sin of 2015 and being filled up anew. It's about being whole in my flaws and in the things I may not accomplish. It's about being content in my this-is-too-hard and I-don't-want-to-be-here moments. It's about allowing my cup to run over with love I may not deserve. It's about letting life happen the way it will, and embracing it as it comes. It's about welcoming the good and the bad. It's about feeling as complete to myself as I seem to others; it's about freeing myself enough to be able to. It's about breaking these chains. It's about me. It's about freedom. It's about joy. 

My 2016 comes with no resolution. Those shackles are coming off tonight. 

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Obedience and Anger: This Week in One Tale

12/23/2015

I'm upset with God. I'm disappointed in Him and my faith is wavering. The nerve of me, right? As contradictory as it may seem - me being part faith-based blogger and all - I just can't seem to erase my human voice from this post. Because being human is all I have right now and I have to hold on to what's left of me. 

I did all I could to listen. To be obedient. To surrender my pride and do things God's way. When I first received His revelation last October, I was determined to make it come to pass. I was determined to live in a way that would manifest this grand purpose He had planned for my life. I was working as tirelessly on that as I had done for this blog that was laid on my heart in May 2014. I was determined to make sure I did all I could in Christ, to fulfill the purpose in that revelation. 

So I did. I set out to be in full obedience, and while a few times I met the ground, God dealt with me. He brushed me off, spanked me on the butt and told me to fall back in line. 

Fall back in line. 

So I did; I got back up and fell back in line. I knew that at the other side of the constant turmoil I was experiencing, would be this worthwhile promise. This prosperous, joyous promise. This promise He showed me.

Only it wasn't. 

On the other side of my constant turmoil, was even bigger turmoil. Turmoil that I hadn't once seen in the vision of promise He laid upon me last October. So here I was, fighting for dear life to ensure this purpose came to fruition, when on the other end, it never would. God broke His promise. He erased the vision. He gave me a false revelation and clearly my obedience meant nothing to Him. 

Did God lie to me? 

I handled the blow like any 'strong' woman would at the time: emotionless. I gathered my belongings, packed my bag and left - both literally and figuratively. I was done. It was done. And to save myself from any more time, embarrassment and pain I placed shades upon my face and bolted to the door. 

How could God lie to me? God doesn't lie. Why would He do this? How could He do this? 

I put all my work into making this work for His kingdom - despite my own worldly reservations, expectations and standards. I ignored myself and listened to God because I was supposed to. I was supposed to surrender to His will! I was supposed to fight for my territory! And all those times I'd fallen, I was supposed to get back up and try again! He told me to! 

So why was my obedience showing meek results? Why was my obedience not good enough? And why had my obedience not rendered the results that were promised? 

I'm upset with God. And no matter how many scriptures I pray or how many prayers I recite, this feeling hasn't ceased. This anger toward The Most High hasn't left me since it began. In fact, it has heightened. Because day after day there's something else being thrown into the fire. It's as if God is requesting more wood. I hear Him: "more wood, please," making a mockery of my attempt at Godly living. At obedience. At discipline. At my promise. I want my promise!  

As the flames rise, I shrink. I shrink into disbelief, wavering faith and anger. I'm pissed at God! Because not only has He led me astray - making my discipline meaningless - and added more to the pain, He's been non-responsive. He broke my heart then ran away. He left me in the wilderness with a broken compass and no voice to follow. What everyone said He would never do, He's done. 

But what about all the other times He's been there?
I stopped and thought that to myself as I drove home from yet another challenging day. We - because we're all human - have a tendency to clench tightest the bad things. The things that cause our lives to quake. The disruptions and dissatisfactions. We remember the hatred, anger and sadness before the happiness and glory. We let the mighty madness hold our bandwidth more than the great things. 

It's possible that I'm so upset with how God has been handling me lately, because I've been ignoring the many things He's provided for me. I'm yelling at Him and cussing Him out at the way He chose to end my year, without acknowledging the many amazing things He conjured up for me throughout the year. This blog launch, these awards, MegaFest, this new job, higher salary, thriving friendships, the conception of projects and the many other feats He allowed me to tackle, I've ignored. Yet and still, I'm holding on to this. I'm erasing all the work He's done on (and for) me this year, because of these recent setbacks. Because of this December fire, I'm discrediting everything He's done between January and November. And much like yesterday's mistake shouldn't erase a year's worth of great work in our lives, it shouldn't for God, either. 

Only it is. Because, I'm human. A servant, but human nonetheless. I hope that in tapping into this not-yet-encouraging revelation, I'm able to grab myself before I drift too deep into the fire. Before I lose myself in the flames. Before I confuse God's test with His abandonment. Before I allow someone else's free will to ruin my life the way they once imagined. 

I'm not sure what will happen with the promise God showed me, nor with the obedience I now have on my record. Perhaps that's none of my business, yet. But this is my faith, and I'm going to fight for it. Even if I have to fight through the flames that God threw me in. That won't make (the human in) me any less upset, but it'll certainly strengthen my faith; I need that more than ever right now. And I suppose that's all He's ever really asked of me anyway. 

God couldn't have lied to me, and His promise just might be renewed. I simply hope these burns don't leave a scar. 

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Words Don't Always Have to Hurt

12/18/2015

"Be encouraged beautiful. You got it!"

Those were all the words I needed, to pry myself from bed and tackle another chapter. They were the words I used to push me to write harder and type quicker. They were the words I reiterated to myself until I believed them. They were the words sent to me about 5 minutes before I began typing this post.

Admittedly, they're the words many of us need to hear when encouraging ourselves stops working. So for those of you who've been waiting to hear them - or words similar - here they are. In different variations. For your differing trials. To get you to great triumphs. Be encouraged. You got it.

Don't give up. Rain always hits hardest toward the eye of the storm. But when the only way out, is through, the dreadful eye of the storm gets you closer to the end. You're close, queen. You're almost there. And as you're suffocating through those high winds and that merciless lightening, I see you. I see you from the other side making it through. Bursting through that storm with your high beams on and windshield wipers on full speed. You have a few more miles to go. You're a few more chapters, sentences, words away...You're a few more semesters, dollars and assignments away...You're only a few more projects, long days, late nights away...A few more hours...paychecks...meetings away...Only a few more upsets, screams and yells away from your breakthrough. But you have to break-through. So don't stop. Keep going. I see you.

Your gift is amazing. Use it! Stop hiding behind the words and work of others. Stop signing your inspiring tweets "anonymous" as if the stories you tell aren't your own. As if the life that spills onto this digital space isn't yours. As if you're ashamed of your truth. Dig into it! Feast in it! It's lovely. And the way you choose to tell it is lovely too. Your gift is amazing. Your words, art, voice, photos, music, poems, campaigns, hashtags, articles are amazing. Your story is amazing. And you deserve to tell it from the mountaintop if you choose to. You deserve to make people sick with your reenactments and your "after the hurricane" memories. You deserve to share it in your way, on your space. No matter who disagrees with it, or dislikes it - own it. Use it. Your gift is amazing.

You can do it. You can do it all. You can strap up your boots and tackle everything you set out to. You can make it through everything that you believe you can, for as long as you believe you can. They can't give you that power and they damn sure can't take it away. That's all you. All the time. Continue to believe in yourself. As much as you did when you first started blogging, or branding, or believing. Believe in yourself as much as you did when you first dropped your mixtape, or album; when you first signed your deal. Believe in yourself as much as you did when you first got that job, first signed that contract, or first started your own business. The new level you're on brings new devils, but honey he can't snatch it from you. He can't snatch your work ethic nor your power. You own that. When I tell you you can do it, you can. But that power only exists for as long as you believe it. I'll believe in you forever - I hope you believe that long, too.

You won't always be here. This dark place. This frustrating place. This place of destruction and unhappiness. It's temporary. Like the storm, you're just passing through. This is just part of the journey. A quick pass through. There's an end to every tunnel, and yours is swiftly approaching. It won't always be like this, so find peace in knowing that it'll be over any day now.  

I love you. I'm proud of you. I support you. Because some of us don't hear those words often enough. When your family doesn't understand why you'd prefer to forge your own way instead of rotting away at a 9 to 5. When they don't understand why you'd choose to be a "struggle artist" than secure in a full-time job. When they don't get why you choose to share your pain with strangers. I love you, I'm proud of you and I support you. Because you're doing life your way. You're owning it on your terms. You're creating a life - and a you - that you'd be proud of. I admire that bravery. That dedication. That commitment. I admire that strength. That drive. That vision. And when no one else understands or gets it, just know that I love you, I'm proud of you and I support you.

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Embrace the Journey

12/15/2015

I was sitting backwards on the Metro North train, heading from Harlem to Bridgeport after last month's BLOGSGIVING brunch.

Backwards.

I usually avoid the backward facing seats. I like to see where I'm going, as I look ahead out of the window. I like to see the speed at which we're traveling and peaking at what's upcoming. I love to see the next stops and the people that plan to board. I love to see ahead. Always.

I usually opt for the front facing seats, but this time, I wasn't in the mood to search. I grabbed the first empty seat I seen and sat down. Luckily sitting backwards didn't make me as anxious as it usually does. Instead, it caused me to be reflective. 

For once, my eyes didn't arrive somewhere before I did. My mind couldn't rush me to a destination I couldn't yet see. I wasn't anticipating the arrival of the next station; instead I was enjoying the ride. I was taking in all the bumps, dips and shifts. I was enjoying the scent of the perfumes around me. I was enjoying me, myself, and the lady that insisted on chatting with me about the conductor's behavior.

This train ride was reminiscent of the level of patience I often neglect. I'm always looking forward; ahead. I always want to see whats ahead of me. My mind always wants to get to the next destination before I physically arrive. I'm so focused on looking ahead, I ignore what's around me. I neglect the things that are happening in the right now. I forget to indulge in those moments. I forget to dive in to those moments. I forget to enjoy those moments.

I'm so focused on arriving, that I miss everything in between. I miss the conversations with strangers and how they turn into new friendships. I miss the beautiful views from the scenic route. I miss smelling the cologne, perfume and dandelions. I miss everything that's happening around me - and even to me - rushing to a destination which I'm not yet ready to arrive.

The first pep talk I gave myself when launching my blog was to "embrace the journey". I wanted to enjoy every lesson, triumph and downfall I may encounter. I wanted to work patiently, and to not be too hard on myself; everything will happen in the time it's supposed to. I firmly believe that. I believe that nothing will come if I am not ready for it, and that I should enjoy the process of preparation.

Riding the train, backwards, allowed me to focus on something other than getting there. It forced me to reflect on where I'm going, appreciate the route I'm taking and to enjoy every moment of the ride. Because this journey is far too fulfilling to rush through. 
--
What beauty might you be missing, rushing to your desired destination? What rays of light are you forgetting to enjoy en route to this place? What part of your this travel are you ignoring? Whatever it is, I hope you, like me, ride the train backwards to appreciate the beauty of the journey. 

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Reality Check: I Believe

12/12/2015

It was exactly one week ago. I was running late. When I arrived, I pulled a chair up to the table, sat down and immediately whipped out my notebook. The prompt was "I believe". The discussion began as people rattled off things they believed in.

"Love, life and liberty." "The pursuit of happiness." "Karma." I kept silent. I decided to read the room first. It was a small intimate crowd, all seemingly connected. Me, I was the outsider. I didn't want to say the wrong thing, and I didn't want to say the right thing - the thing that'd require me to speak longer than I'd felt comfortable.

The moderator prompted us to select the one thing we believe in and elaborate. She gave us 10 minutes to write our thoughts before she encouraged us to share them. Share them?! We have to share!?

I grabbed my pen and wrote. I scribbled. I scratched things off and wrote new things down. I got caught up in having to share and then let it go. My final thoughts came together. As all over the place as my feelings usually are.

People tell you to believe in yourself. They encourage you to speak victory and seek confidence. They tell you that in order to do anything you have to say "I can" more frequently than "I can't". And while I believe in the power of the tongue, I don't think that's enough. Because there are times that I don't believe in myself. There are times when no matter how much I say good things or how loud I may yell my positive affirmations, they're just not enough. There are moments where my "I can's" are drowned out by the impossibility of the task. There are times where my "I believe in me's" are just words I say to get by - because that's what I'm supposed to do. 

So more than just believing in the power of the tongue, I believe in believing the tongue. I believe in the true power coming from that belief. And, I do, undoubtedly believe in God's power. Perhaps that's all the belief I need to believe in me. 

I didn't want to share. I didn't want to display my rebellion by reading about how much I don't believe in myself (sometimes). No one wants to hear that, ever. But it's true; and I believe in truth. 

The conversation continued. Everyone owning their beliefs. Everyone releasing a little bit of their truths. Everyone adopting new beliefs and believing in the power of each other's openness. I kept quiet. Read the room a bit. And began to start my process of owning my beliefs. Because while we all believe in different things, there's beauty in believing in something, even if it's not yourself.

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You'll Never Have This Moment Again

12/01/2015

You'll never be in this exact place, on this exact date, in this exact moment, reading this blog post again. You'll never feel the way you do right now - reading each word with anticipation for the next, skimming each sentence to hurry to the next paragraph, excited to see what this post is about - again. You'll never try to relate these words to your life in this way, again. You'll never read this sentence for the first time again. This is it. This is the first and last time it'll be like this. The first and last time this moment will occur. The first and last time it'll happen this way. 

I sat on the couch with my line sister on a Saturday night, drinking homemade Sangria and laughing about life. We usually have these moments at dinner tables of Mexican restaurants, but this time we were hanging out in my humble abode. We used our first glass to review recent updates in our lives. The third glass was used to dig deeper. The second glass, well, we devoured as we applied our lipstick. 

"One thing I learned is that this is it. We'll never have this moment again," she said as she recalled last month's trying moments. For that, we were grateful. We were excited at the realization that we can walk out of our darkness and never have to experience it in that way again. Never having to experience the same death, the same illness, the same pain, the same hurt feelings, the same misery, again. But as we continued to dig, with that third glass, it all got deeper. 

All of these moments - the bad ones and the good ones - will never revisit us. We'll never feel the exact same about them and we'll never learn the exact same thing from them. In some ways that can be a blessing - in others, not quite. We rush through life wishing away these moments, because they're not enough for us. We want more. We need more. So we throw away our right nows with hopes that our tomorrow will be better. Brighter. Bolder. But those extravagant tomorrows won't ever arrive without taking with us what today was meant to provide. Without the lessons, memories and relationships we were supposed to absorb today, we'll never get to the beauty we anticipate tomorrow. We'll never get to experience the promising moments of tomorrow by dismissing the present moments of today. 

We need these moments - all of them. The ones we want to ignore and the ones we want to accept. The ones we want to throw away and the ones we want to lock in a keepsake box. The ones we want to breeze past and the ones we want to relish in.

We miss so much of our journey rushing to the next stop. We ruin our travel looking at our watches worrying about arriving late. We miss everything. The scenery. The weather. Our thoughts. We miss the opportunity to process what's happening, our emotions, our blessings. We miss everything this moment presents hurrying to the next one. 

We sat on that couch, drinking the last of the sangria recapping our lives and inspiring each other - but we'll never have that moment again. We did with it what we chose, and luckily that stuck with me. Like the many other simple things I choose to digest; because, the beauty lies in our choice to embrace the moment. 

The beauty is that you get to choose what you do with this moment. You get to either wish it away, or while in it. You can decide whether to bask in its glory or quickly dismiss it. You can use this moment to heed its lessons, or use it to hope it'd pass as quickly as it arrived. The beauty is that this moment is yours and you could do with it what you please. 

So enjoy this moment. This very right now that you're living. Whether it's what you've dreamed of, or what you woke up in a deep sweat from. Whether it's everything you've wished for, or everything you've wished away. Swallow this moment. Welcome this moment. Become this moment. Because this moment will never present itself again, and I'd hate for you to miss whatever it's meant to bring. 

You'll never have this moment again. Take from it what you can. 

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Never Say You're Sorry...

11/28/2015

I learned that my sophomore year. "You're not a sorry person," my graduate advisor shared with me. My apologies quickly changed after she put that into perspective for me. "Just apologize," she continued.

I've noticed a lot of my posts here have either begun with, or been grounded by, quotes of those closest to me. They've been lessons shared with me that have undeniably aided in my development. They've been statements, suggestions and commands that still guide me. I've also noticed that though highlighting the quotes, I miss the opportunity of highlighting the individual.

I can't say I've never done this before. It's been a recurring theme in past years. I've neglected love and friendships unintentionally, because I had no idea what it meant to water the grass. I failed to acknowledge their relevance because I was too focused on something else - something I thought was more important than these relationships. I walked out on people for my own hurt feelings, and was too misguided to turn around and walk back. I'd like to think I left these people with something memorable, but I can't be too sure. I know I took from them what I needed and when things fell short, I left. I had no interest in reconciliation and no desire to work to mend what was broken. Truth is, it wasn't until recently that I learned how.

These past few weeks I've been trying to figure out how to rid myself of the tainted elements of my being. I've been trying to tap into the cause of my emotional disruptions and ghastly judgement. I've been trying to fix myself, and realized that in order to do that I have to look at my past. I have to look at the things that I'm still holding onto and the soul ties that are still lingering. So today I'm using a quote from someone whose presence shifted my life, and am apologizing to all those whose presence shouldn't have ended as nastily as it did. 

And, while no, I am not sorry, I truly do apologize.

I apologize for not believing in you, when believing is all you wanted me to do. When outrage and anger filled my heart and the only things I could muster up to say was "you can't do it". I apologize for letting the warm water of hatred deteriorate a mendable friendship. For holding on to the hurt of brokenness for so long that the only way I knew to release it was to put it on you and whoever else fell in the wraths of my pain. I apologize for letting my thoughts eat away at this, at us, when communicating was a viable option that I should've selected. I apologize for my petty. For my messy. 

I apologize for filling my wine glass while leaving yours empty. I apologize for the broken plans and the lame excuses. The missed birthdays and the attitudes when you missed mine. I apologize for making you text me before you called. I apologize for letting subtweets fly across my Twitter timeline. I apologize for not trusting you enough to let our reconnection flourish; for still harboring pain in my heart.

I apologize for speaking death over us, before I knew the power of words. Before I recognized the power of us. Despite our many spats, your friendship is irreplaceable. And I apologize for spending these last couple of years trying to replicate it; trying to find someone that "got" me like you. Trying to find someone that was as equally classy and ratchet as I. I apologize for the way I made you feel, even if what you felt was nothing. I apologize for that nothing. For that blank space I left you with when you needed me most. For being absent and self-absorbed during your darkest moments. During your breakups and terrible apartments. For not being available for your brightest moments. During your graduations and new jobs. I apologize for not using my voice to be constructive. For not using my voice to pour into you anymore. I apologize for not understanding. And most importantly, I apologize for not having been mature enough to do these things, to be this woman, to mend our brokenness.

To those of you who've been cut by my words. To those who've been hurt by my neglect and disregard for your presence. To those of you I may have belittled in order to comfort myself. To those of you I was too damaged by to love. I apologize for everything I may have done to leave a nasty taste in your mouth, or a dark stain on your heart.

Because, no I'm not sorry, but I genuinely do apologize. 

I hope this not only severs my soul ties, but yours as well. 

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Don't Go Crazy

11/19/2015

"Don't let them people drive you crazy," my mother told me every time we wrapped up my vent session. She commanded it, with a "you bet' not" tone. Almost as if she knew I was teetering at the edge. She must've known I was one small nudge from flipping. 

Today, I was the recipient of an unwarranted rude e-mail. The old Zoe would've clapped back as nastily - with exclamation marks and capital letters. I would've responded with an e-mail filled of sarcasm, wit and an extra dash of sass. The old Zoe would've drawn an unmistakeable line between the do's and don'ts of communicating with me. The old Zoe would've made the sender of that rude e-mail, never want to e-mail me again. 

But I am not the old Zoe. 

I had to hold back. I swallowed my words to calm the frog in my throat that was ready to jump onto the page of that reply. The frog was ready to snap. To go off. To lose it. But I couldn't, and my mother told me not to. She commanded me not to. 

So I didn't. I politely responded - with no sarcasm, no wit, and only a little bit of sass. And as challenging as giving up that battle felt like relinquishing my power, I realized shortly after that it was quite the opposite. 

The truth is, people are going to take you there. You're going to want to cuss them out, slap them up, and jump quickly out of your character to address the nastiness they've hit you with. You'll feel like power is in retaliation. You'll think that power is the loudest yell. You'll want to believe that power is heightened through fear; through obedience; through asserting your authority. You'll feel powerful hitting someone in the gut with a punch as strong as they hit you with. 

That's not power, though. 

True power lies in controlling yourself in these nasty situations with these nasty people. True power lies in remaining true to yourself and the person you're hoping to become. True power is not letting them snatch you out of that element of growth and honor. True power is zipping up your coat to ensure your character stays within, and does not jump into that e-mail to 'clapback'. True power is remaining calm, gathered and graceful when everything (and everyone) around you is telling you not to. True power is turning the disrespect into a blog post, a song, a movement or a march. True power is owning your situation enough to put out the fire that someone tried to ignite; it's being powerful enough to cut it before it even begins. 

"Don't let them drive you crazy," my mom commanded. Because erasing all the work you've done, only to step back into your past is crazy. Because risking it all for pride is crazy. Because sitting behind your computer drafting angry e-mails and tweets in response to someone else's unhappiness is crazy. Because opening the door to hate and welcoming yourself in is crazy. Because agreeing to be the company that misery loves is crazy. And going crazy is the act of relinquishing your power to the people that drove you there. 

Do not give up your power. 

"Don't let them drive you crazy," rang in my head like bells today, as I battled between reverting back to the old Zoe, and staying right where I was as current Zoe; joyful Zoe; saved Zoe. Luckily for me - and frankly, for her - I decided to keep my power today.  I refused to let her drive me crazy. 

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Sometimes That's All That Matters

11/15/2015

Last week started with being run off the road, with foggy windows, hitting a cement barrier and catching a flat tire. All before 8:00 a.m.

It ended 23 presentations, a broken nail and a new tire later. It ended with bags under my eyes and not enough hours to get anything else done. It ended with a few tears and a few glasses of wine. My mornings were early and evenings, late. I used every minute of every hour either presenting to people or traveling to present to people. And when I wasn't physically doing that, I was thinking of the next way to present. The next place to present at. The next topic to present on. In and out of the car. In and out of buildings. In and out I put the materials of the box that I carried to the 23 presentations I managed to do in the past two weeks.

The whispers of positivity I used to pry myself from bed at 7:00 am, turned to yells of frustration. My tired hopeful eyes turned hopeless as I trekked out to receive the same bit of disinterest, attitude and rejection. I wasn't at all used to this, and it's not at all what I signed up for. I had no time to eat, breathe or workout. I had no time to do the other 100 daunting tasks filling the whiteboard of my cubicle, nor respond to any of the papers piling on my desk. 

I quit 4 times to 4 different people. I was the recipient of "I'm proud of you" texts messages and "it's almost over" reminders. But none of rinsed my spirit of the defeat it felt by the end of the first week. None of it empowered me to keep pushing for the remaining 12 presentations for the following week. 

It was terrible. It was draining. It was painful. It was grueling. It was everything I prayed against. It was everything I didn't have time for and did not want to do. It was everything that caused my sanity to wither. 

But it is over. I completed the dreadful assignment. I did what I had to do. I woke up early and stayed up late. I did my best. I fought through my desire to give up. I resisted the urge to call it quits. I made it through. And, sometimes that's all that matters. 

As we remember our past and where we've journeyed from, we must stop focusing on the bad experiences, and instead focus on the fact that we've made it through. We must highlight our new found strength and resilience. We must choose to acknowledge our ability to make it through that of which we never thought we could. Because in hindsight, that is truly all that matters. 

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The Next Puzzle Piece

11/11/2015

The next puzzle piece will be the weird one. The one with 4 outputs and only 1 input. It's going to be a piece that doesn't even fit this puzzle. A piece that'll have to be forcefully placed next to the piece that seems to match closest. It'll be the one bright piece. The piece that isn't even shown on the front of the box. 

It'll be the piece that doesn't even make sense. The piece that must've accidentally been put in the box. It'll be a loner piece. An individual piece. It'll be the piece I hold onto closest because it'll indicate another puzzle is somewhere. It'll mean that the gloomy storm puzzle sitting on my table isn't the only one available. It'll mean that there's one with vibrant colors and a sunshine. The next puzzle piece will be the most important one. It'll be the one that starts the next puzzle. The one that'll connect all the other brighter pieces together. It'll be the piece that starts my next chapter. 

Life is made up of infinite pieces. Pieces we avoid picking up. Pieces we'd much rather leave in the box, or leave spread across the table. Pieces we'd prefer to walk by without acknowledging; without finishing. But when you find that one bright piece, that one happy piece, that one piece that offers a ray of light and a sense of hope, you hold onto it. You hold onto that piece until the other ones like it follow. You hold on to that piece and anticipate the other equally bright pieces to come along. Because not all puzzles are dark and gloomy, and not all of its pieces are either. 

I suppose I'll go place this last piece into this gloomy puzzle, clear it from my table and check under the sofa for the next piece. The happy piece. The piece that'll start the next puzzle of prosperity. 

The next puzzle piece is around here somewhere - I just know it. 

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The above is written in support of All The Many Layers' #30Layers30Days writing challenge. 

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