Posted on | February 24, 2015 | No Comments

Most days, I feel like I walk a very fine line. Well, “walk” is probably a generous word. It’s more like a teetering balancing act where I’m hovering thirty feet above a round pool of sharks, just waiting for me to take a wrong step. Behind me, there’s the world of my past, the world where… if I enter… I may never get out again. The world where I second guess every thing and every one, where I wonder what people are saying and doing behind my back. The world where I think that nothing could ever be good, ever again, because why would anything good ever happen to little old me?

Before me, there’s the world of my potential future. The future where I’m strong. The future where I make decisions with authority, make choices with compassion and clarity… the future where I am complete and whole and healed.

And then there is me, teetering somewhere in between, close to neither, wondering which foot fall will send me plunging down into the pit I can never get out of.

I am not a fan of this person I find myself to be some days … this indecisive, scared, confused person, who wonders about each step… who questions every movement. Some days, I feel infinitely closer to the me of my past… the one who would and did let any one and every one walk all over her. Some days, I feel that I’m one half-step from the safety of the platform, even though that platform is the me that lets things happen… not the me that makes things happen.

Today is one of those days.

A day when I find myself so achingly close to stepping backwards onto the platform. I am so close to giving up on the quest to make myself that me I want to be… the me who waves at me from the platform so many thousands of feet away.

But on these days, when my past creeps up on me, when my feet want to carry me back instead of forward, I have to stop. I have to stop and regain my balance and look below and see that, yes, there are sharks. I have to stop and see that yes, I have many steps to go before I reach that other side. I have to stop and recognize that although I’m only a half step away from my past and it feels scary and overwhelming and tastes so much like the dripping sweat of failure… I am still balanced.

Maybe I’ve moved backwards.

Maybe I have a very long way to go.

But I’m still here.

I haven’t fallen.

And as long as my feet waver here, balanced on the thinnest rope of my hope for the future… then I can still choose to move forward.



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    Spilled Milk (and Other Atrocities) by Law Momma is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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