When it all seems impossible

When you can’t hear the message of what people are saying, and all you hear is abrasive venom.

And every word you say in retort starts as a pure signal in your heart but turned into an atom bomb by the time it drops from your lips.

And it’s all-out war with no end in sight. The war is alpha and omega, a tribute to your oldest scars and a prophecy of trauma that will probably still linger tomorrow despite your best efforts to transcend it.

I mean, this is your childhood stupidity we’re talking about. The messages you misconstrued in your youth, everything you took too personally, everything that broke you and made you afraid of a world that once seemed infinitely promising.

You carried these burdens to your adult form, and many of them dictated your way of seeing and relating to the world. Feelings of unworthiness, of not being enough, of being clumsy or dim-witted, unattractive or dull.

When people twist their daggers into those wounds now, you’re like a child again. Your capacity for reason swirls around the drain. You want to kick and scream and draw blood.

All you can do is feel, and watch as your emotions turn your words into ammunition. You unload your guns until all there is to do is collapse in bed and cry. Hopeless and abandoned. Seduced by delusions and lies, somber deceptive songs about how no one appreciates you and no one sees you for what you are.

What do you do when it all seems impossible?

When you’re at a dead end, and you can’t handle the stench of death and redundancy that permeates this place?

Some people leave, and never look back.

Others leave, fail, and crawl back.

Some people stay there in a mortal purgatory of martyrdom and self-flagellation.

As for me, I’ve tried to leave, and I’ve tried to stay.

But martyrdom is not for me. Not anymore. Self-flagellation is so overrated.

The path I choose, is to transcend.

Evolution is my prime directive.

To build bridges over the spike pits and lava rivers that characterize many sacred relationships in my life.

Some people say, it’s best to give up. Choose myself above the others, look away. Let them fend for themselves, and fend for myself.

I rebuke this.

To me, every relationship is worth preserving. With the most seemingly-impossible characters.

Because we all matter. Equally.

By looking away from our trials, we look away from the treasure within them. The growth. The synergy. The comradery. The bold new chapters of life that take us to new dimensions of awareness and karmic release.

What to do, when you’re up against the impossible?

Well, stop being against it. Flow with it, in humility and selflessness.

Let other people be right, even when they are so, so wrong.

Let your point of view matter less, even when it feels like it’s the most important bounty in the world (it’s not, ever).

Write your thoughts down. Sort out your feelings. Click publish.

When the ultimatums fly and the pressure builds, and it all feels like it’s falling apart.

And when there’s no ground left to stand on, or so it seems. And there’s violence in your heart.

Just don’t forget to apologize, even when it’s not accepted.

Don’t forget to breathe, even when the air tastes like sweat and pain.

Don’t forget that you are love, even when all you feel is seething animosity.

Don’t forget to thank yourself when it’s over, for not going too far over the edge into insanity and consequences.

Don’t forget to forgive yourself if you did end up over that edge. And then thank yourself for surviving it.

Just get through this, no matter what, rest your tired bones, and then wake up with a strengthened resolve to love and heal everything you touch and everything you don’t.

I believe in you and everything you’re all about.

And somehow, everything’s going to be okay.

Join the peaceful revolution with Andrew L. Hicks


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