A Personal Communion

“Just one shot of espresso please, I value my life.”

This is a statement I made in the Starbucks (I know, I know) drive-thru a few days ago, regarding my dirty chai latte. It seems simple, a passing little joke to the barista, but it actually held huge weight for me. I value my life. That is the part that brought me to reality.

See, I do my journaling and my mindfulness, I go to my therapy and I take my meds, but this is one of the first instances in, probably as long as I can remember, that I innately, instinctively, valued my own life.

Remember when we talked about sharing secrets? When we were having warm drinks, all cuddled up, thinking we might not be worthy enough to stand our ground, to feel our feelings, to assert what ourselves? Well, friend, here is one of my many secrets: I was surprised to hear myself say that I value my life. I haven’t made a habit of it in the past and I wasn’t sure it would join my daily practices anytime soon. But, so secretly, so casually, I found that it had.

Now I hold this responsibility that I guess I always have, I guess you all have probably felt all the while, I know that I have to cultivate something that actually feels like living. Feels worth while. For me, that looks like slow mornings and lots of cups of tea. Like the buying books and puzzles and board games. Like the separate, and equally important, act of reading books, doing puzzles, and playing board games. Cool mornings on the porch with a blanket and a hot mug. Rainy days, just the same.

See, I hadn’t quite felt the weight of it before. My therapist has asked me what I want my life to look like. I thought we were talking about dreams. When I say dreams, I mean like middle of the night, flying and fairies, fantastical dreams. I didn’t think there were dreams that were achievable. Somewhere along the way, I lost the sense that you could have a dream that actually had potential to come true. I hadn’t even realize this until recently. Until I started thinking about what my valued life could or should look like.

Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of a belief that I could achieve something meaningful. A million tiny moments strung across my life, full of “you can’t” or “you won’t” in small ways, until it became the way. Death by a thousand cuts to the things I thought possible. Now, each day, I have to remind myself of the things I can do and of things I should try if I’d like to. Even sitting where I am right now, writing this and you sitting where you are right now, reading this - we are taking part in the great magic of resistance. Each word written and read is sowing the seeds of belief back into my life. Something worth making. Something worth valuing.

These are my secrets, please hold them carefully...