Crash into me.

For the past few weeks, I've felt like a burning house, like a kayak in the rapids, like a black-and-white whisper in a crowd full of color. The days have been exhausting: completing the by-far most enduring semester of my graduate career, financial struggles, work anxieties, searching for a sense of community, support. 

One of my biggest weaknesses is my inability to respond (versus react) to hard times & difficult situations; I stress, I overthink, and then I fall apart like a house of cards. It's really quite exhausting: the racing anxiety, the rumination & intruding thoughts, lying to convincing yourself everything will be fine in the midst of sheer panic, being unable to write or think or eat or even breathe. 

I build myself back up when suddenly I'm a sandcastle, succumbing to the ocean's waves.

Sometimes I think it's okay to feel lost or broken because sometimes it's not until we're broken that the light shines through. It's taking the broken pieces & creating something new that's important. I mean, that's how mosaics are made, right? I'm also learning to stop building walls & burning bridges but to instead build bridges & burn walls. You'll be the ball & I'll be the chain and together we can start all over.

A house built on sand shall surely fall but a house built on rock has a strong foundation.

Somedays, I'm the ocean strong and mighty; other days I'm the rocks & sand, vulnerable enough to let the waves, crash into me.

We are pressed, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. — 2 Corinthians 4:8-12