I have never not made it through. 

I have never not made it through. 

I am aware that I just wrote a grammatically incorrect sentence. I understand that saying I’ve always made it through means the same thing, but it doesn’t send the same message. 

There’s power in knowing that at no point in the history of my existence have I not prevailed. I have never not made it through. That’s heavy. 

I could trace back my steps for the last decade or so and show you all the places where I made a pit stop or had to take a detour. I could show you the times when I felt like I was stuck in the mud while the rain poured and poured. I could. I could share the pages and pages and pages of journal entries where I pleaded to God for guidance. The pages where the lines run together because my tears soaked through what felt like a never-ending story of feeling stuck at the starting line. I could. 

But in looking back over the stories I’ve told myself I seemed to have glossed over the fact that all of my sad songs seem to end the same: I’ve never not made it through. 

I’m learning that to make the kind of mistakes learn the kind of lessons I’ve learned, it takes a level of freedom that some would envy. To fall flat on your face because you tripped chasing your dreams, well, that isn’t really a setback, is it? Failing takes freedom, and I have never not been free.

I packed up my entire life in 2009 and moved to California because a boy with a big head asked me to. I did the same thing in 2013 and again in 2017 because other boys with big heads dangled the idea of happily ever after in front of me, without any real intention of acting on their promises. Sure, I could kick myself for being so gullible. I could berate myself for ignoring the signs. I could. I really could. 

I choose instead to appreciate the fact that I’ve always had the freedom to do what I’ve wanted to do the second I’ve wanted to do it. Yes, my priorities were misplaced and my heart had a few too many holes to take the lead in my decision-making process. I needed to heal. I did. But, I am so grateful that for my entire adult life and for much of my childhood, I’ve had the freedom to fail.

I do believe having a therapist for a mother helped (smile). With her help, I learned to listen to myself and come to my own conclusions. Early on, I gave myself permission to try new things and trust people. I still do. I choose to celebrate that because it’s noble. 

When you’ve made as many mistakes learned as many lessons as I’ve learned in a short amount of time, it does make it hard to trust yourself. But, today, as I start a new and exciting chapter (details coming soon) in my life, all signs point to the fact that I’ve always trusted myself. I gave myself permission to try and fail and try again because subconsciously I knew my soft place to land if ever I should fall was me. I’m learning that even when it felt like I was standing still, I was moving forward. I had to get here to appreciate all the heres that felt like nowheres. I can see now that I was always on the right path. 

I have never not made it though. Not ever have I not made it through. There has never been a time when I did not make it through. I have always made it through. Never will I not make it through. 

Never will I not make it through. When you feel that, you move different. And now, it’s time to move.

Featured image by Sergi Dolcet Escrig on Unsplash

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