What Doesn’t Kill You, Makes You Stronger

I get sad. I cry. I get mad. I throw a fit. Then I feel ashamed. Ashamed that I let anything get to me. Ashamed that I became emotional. Ashamed at my own weakness. I give myself a pep talk. “Get it together. I saw this coming. I’m not weak. I’ve been through worse. This ain’t shit. Keep your head up.” The calm comes over me. I got this. I count to 10. I count again. I inhale. I exhale. Deeply. Soothingly. I gingerly wipe the tears off of my face. Okay, think about all the positive points in this situation. Tick, tick, tick . . . Discouragement. “Why me? What did I do? Why would I fall for this shit again? Same shit, different occasion.” No! I put a stop to those thoughts. I can’t let myself give in to the negativity. “That’s what they want. They live for that shit. They get off on your downfall.” More pep talk. So what do I do? I slowly begin to piece together the blocks, the inhumanely gargantuan blocks. I begin creating pillars. Then I start making an arch. Meticulously. The going is slow and my arms feel the strain under the weight. My muscles cry out for mercy. The perspiration pools beneath my feet creating a river. When I get to the center, I place the last stone. This tiny center stone that will make my bridge strong. I turn around slowly. Ceremoniously. I take one last look at him. The lone figure who is silently standing on the distant shore. “Goodbye Adversity. Goodbye. You have taken down larger, stronger opponents but not me. Not today.” With a final sigh I turn and cross my bridge. The bridge that I built with my own two hands. The one way bridge that I will only cross once. I feel physically stronger from the labor that went into the building of the bridge. I’m mentally stronger from figuring out how all the pieces would go together. Not only that, I’m prepared to make more bridges in the future as I proceed onto the path that would lead me forward. There will be no glances back. The bridge is already built and I already crossed it. Now it will grow to become a distant memory. I whisper, “No regrets. Thank you.” I just know the wind will carry the message where it needs to go. No need to turn my head.

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