Life is a struggle from the very beginning. We fight for our first breath upon leaving the womb and cry when we succeed. We exert significant effort learning to walk and many times encounter pain before we triumph over balance. The struggles we face build our strength to overcome the next challenge. Struggling is not failing because it allows us to make our way through life.
Peace is justified, and the desperate longing for its gentle embrace illuminates the path through the dense forest of fear. Life continues full of painfully slow and exhausting recovery, yet peace still evades. Toxic entities are increasingly transparent as they swarm in the light of hope emanating from our open wounds. With one violent revolution of the earth, one precarious step on the path, sometimes just one excruciating breath at a time, we chase the peace we so valiantly deserve.
Control is an illusion, and the fight against reduction is perpetual.
I remember planning my future, where I’d go to college, what I’d study, and how my future career would allow for some flexibility for the unexpected. It was a logical, researched and well-thought-out plan.
I’ve come to realize much of the anxiety, distress, and ultimately dis-ease in my life originated from my stubbornness to follow this plan at all costs. The amount of energy expended trying to control my life depleted my ability to respond to the inevitable “shit show.”
It takes great restraint to focus my efforts on what is happening right now rather than attempting a stranglehold on the cornucopia of “what ifs.” Now, my plan is like following a map to a destination unbeknownst to me. The map helps guide me, but I must find my own way.
The tangled mass of vibrant colors shooting out of the head represents the struggle to make sense of the traumatized mind. Surviving each day is challenging enough, but we are then faced with explaining the sensation to others.