I want you to know it’s going to be OK.
You will heal from this.
This won’t kill you. You are not buried. You are not ruined.
The relief you’re looking for isn’t disguised or hidden.
It’s only waiting.
Moving on might begin with the slightest of movements.
Blind faith is sometimes seen through swollen, tired eyes.
It’s getting back up from heartache so great that it takes your breath away.
It’s one pant leg at a time when the seconds are standing still,
and going to that restaurant by yourself.
It’s having to repeat yourself when they ask, “How many?”
It’s rebuilding with whatever you still have left within.
An exhausted spirit, but not one emptied.
I want you to know you’re not as alone as you believe.
But this, this recovery,
you have to do it yourself.
Inch by brutal inch.
One heavy step at a time.
You’ll feel as if you’re running in the same place,
But I promise you, eventually, inevitably,
You’ll be amazed at how far you’ve come.
Forgive yourself first. Completely.
Whether or not you’re to blame.
In the face of fear and shame.
Even if you’ll never be the same.
I want you to know it’s going to be OK. That it’s going to feel impossible to start over, from somewhere you never imagined you’d be.
That’s where you’re heading next.
Only requires a willing heart and bravery.
And at this moment, this very season you’re in
Is just that…
A moment.
This is not the end.
Begin again.
Courtesy of About the Street
