Overtime

Doing what's best for myself has been and still is a TRIP.

Walking, picking up the pace to a slight jog, finding a groove into a sprint, and falling. Getting up with stinging pink palms and knees mixed with blood and gravel.

But I get up every time. I'll cry, sigh, or yell until my lungs rattle, do whatever it takes to shake off the pain of the fall and everything that came with it. Then I'll get up and try again.

Because although I've fallen and keep falling, I'll never stop trying because I know I'm worth fighting for.

But it's ironic because every time I look back at what I tripped

over, I realize it was my own foot that knocked me down.

And I wasn't standing there with my foot flexed, waiting for a collision.

I was just sitting there, legs sprawled out, eyes closed, without a care in the world.

Which, in a way, feels worse because instead of having my own back, I'm just a bystander who finds my progress boring.

(Truthfully, I don't know if this makes sense to anyone else, or if I sound crazy.)

It's hard not having my own back because that leads to self-sabotage and making the wrong decisions.

But I feel like the part of me who doesn't root for me and what I'm doing now doesn't think I'm running towards the right thing. I think she wants me to, just for a few minutes, lay down beside her, close my eyes, and just be.

As I was watching Pixar's 'Elemental' for the third time, I think about what Wade said: 'Sometimes, when I lose my temper, I think it's just me trying to tell me something I'm not ready to hear.'

I think this is why I keep falling. I'm laying down with my eyes closed, waiting for me to stop chasing, and slow down to think about what I really want."