At some point after fighting, after feeling like every day is a battle to just eke out one more for the survival column, you finally slow down.
And you’re going to grieve. Mourn everything you’ve lost. Friends. Time. Joy. Accomplishments. Skills. Yourself.
You’re going to have to fight. You’re going to be angry. Distraught that after all you’ve done, all you keep doing, the struggles you already overcame, you’re not there. Not even close to where you want to be.
But it all starts with a second, then a minute, then an hour, a day, a week, a month. Building and growing. You’ll lose ground, you’ll gain small, pyrrhic-seeming victories. But grueling step after grueling step, you will eventually move. It might not be the direction you planned on originally, but you will move. You will recover.
Because when you least expect, there comes a moment.
A sudden flicker when you're finally able to turn off the static, connect. There’s a bubble in your chest, a buoy pulling you above the waves. A brief respite where breath fills your lungs and the fog clears.
You might not immediately recognize it.
But hold on for that moment.
Because after that one moment, comes another. And another.
A song you remember how to dance to. A joke you remember how to laugh at. A place you remember how to exist in. An art you remember how to create. An emotion you remember how to feel. A joy you remember how to share.
A person you finally remember how to be.
It starts with a single moment. And that’s all it takes.
prguitarman
germansingergirl
discoholicmusic
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