I have to clear the way for a change to take place. I have to shove off from shore, from the expected, the habitual. Push myself into the storm were I will see what I am, and better yet, become a new thing. How will I know of what I am capable of unless I‘m pushed to the outermost limits of my understanding and endurance, physically, mentally, and emotionally? I must embrace the cataclysm of my existence. Great man are great by passing through the vice-like press of doubt, fear, loneliness, and tragedy. Through being broken, I can be made whole, maxing out my potential.
I have no way to explain that who I am now, is no where near who I was a year ago. Remnants, yes, perhaps. It is a strange knowing, a responsibility, to be made whole after so long. No more blame for the past, no more excuses. I am tethered up so high on the crux of the rock, that even if I fall from here, I will never be as far down as I was earlier in my life. Now, I set my sights ever higher. To the next summit, the next storm, I will press on.