A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up bones.
I’ve spent this summer trying to figure out my heart. Matters of the heart: what I want, what I need, why do I feel this way and how can I change.
With all of the negativity I’ve allowed to come into my life as of late, I’ve realized I’ve become bitter and brittle. My spirit became bitter and brittle.
I remember vividly how it all started and when it came to an end. God has a way of making you a believer. When I thought things couldn’t get any worse for me, they would. But I would still refuse to get on my knees and pray. Because after all God wasn’t listening. The times that I did they were once again empty prayers. I say empty because I cried but I don’t know if I meant it. That’s the problem. I don’t know me. I don’t know my heart.
I was such a broken woman. 30 months in the dark. 30 months of rain. I was ready for Noah to show up on his ark, because I really thought I was drowning.
The cloud that come in ravaged my brain and sent me falling faster than Alice down the rabbit hole. They say an apple a day keeps the doctor way. I began to read my bible even harder than before. I stopped bargaining with God.(That gets us nowhere). Once I put my trust in him, my cheerful heart began to heal me in ways I could not have imagined. How did I know the cloud was gone? Because I could see.
I could see.
I could see.
Which reminded me a tune from one of my favorite Disney movies Tangled: And at last I see the light. It’s like the fog has lifted. To me that’s exactly what happened.
One day in March I had a breakthrough. I was sitting by myself and said no more. I saw the sun start to peek through for the very first time. I felt like I had been walking with extreme tunnel vision for so long that when I finally reached my break though it was almost like I was born again (maybe I was).
Water, melanin, bones, blood. In route to death, while I’m here, might as well get shit accomplished.
Photographer, fitness enthusiast, blogger, and mother of two.