I lost it.
Nearly two decades ago.
It was the year 2000.
Nothing remained except a bunk bed, a weathered desk, a metal framed mirror, and me.
The repulsive eyes staring back were my own.
They welled with sick and tired of being sick and tired tears.
It'd been 30 days since I put alcohol in my body, and it was time to face my weight, all 70 destructive pounds.
I felt bullied by my heaviness.
I didn’t know it at the time, but when facing brutal battles, ancient warriors taught one another to run toward the sound of the guns.
Yes, toward the guns…NOT away from them.
As I look back on myself, standing in that rehab mirror, I can still hear the war I was facing in my head.
How could I win the battle of self-sabotage with absolutely nothing and no one to support me?
It would be months before I had a key to something I could call my own. But I knew I had to burn the ships.
I had to.
I had nothing.
And that meant I had everything to lose.
Have you ever been tired of losing?Have you ever suspected that life is not the problem?Have you ever been sick and tired of blaming other people?
If so, perhaps it’s time to turn around (and face the guns).
Perhaps it’s time to lean into the eyes of the person you see in the mirror.
Perhaps there’s a marvelous hostage inside of you dying to get out.
I know what it’s like to hold your potential hostage.
And I know what it’s like to let it free.
Do yourself a favor.
Open the door…and lose the key.