Rising from the ashes is a woman being reborn. A woman destined for greatness and rising above the tragedy. A woman who is clothed in strength and dignity. She has fought her way through many trials and tribulations and survived the storm. She has turned her mess into a message for all to hear. She has risen from the ashes and found the crown that has been bestowed upon her by the KING! She is a woman! She is ME! Her pain, my pain is a manifestation that this is meant for me. The tears, the pain, the life that I have lived has made me stronger, wiser, a muse for the women who is just like she. She is me and I am her; a girl who has risen from the ashes and has finally found her voice to speak. To conquer the world and do so while displaying such grace and dignity.
I’ve felt anxious and slightly embarrassed about seeing my therapist the last two weeks. Mostly because all the progress we made just felt like it went out the window. Not that I wasn’t trying, just my life’s circumstances make it difficult. So we’re tying a new approach to my therapy in conjunction with what we’ve already been doing. I think my meds need an adjustment so hoping that I’ll be out of this depression pit quicker than last time.
I guess the big take away today was that it’s not hopeless, it’s hard but not hopeless. Maybe that can help a few of you out too, it sparked something in me.
Feeling out of place, out of body, out of soul, out of mind. Feeling in despair. Feeling broken, in desperate need of repair. Feeling tangled, mangled in the ties that lies within my life that has been there since the beginning of time. Why is this mine? It was mine since the beginning of time. I was born with a bruised soul. A soul that I would need to mold into something that would make me whole. I am the angel of despair. No need to be repaired. I was born to be broken. The token angel to heal the wounded with its mangled soul. To bear the heavy load on my back as I walk on my bare soles so that others may begin to feel whole. Maybe I’m the angel of repair. The light at the end of the tunnel. The sun on a rainy day. Maybe I’m apart of a greater plan, to mend a broken soul, that’s on the broken road. Maybe, just maybe I’m that angel to repair the broken road and heal the broken souls.
I done had money I done been broke I done been talked about something awful I done been lied on by so many folks I done even been depressed at times and didn’t wanna cry cause my pride was too strong But over the years I thought it over And after struggling for so long and still holding on I figured, can’t be nothing all that wrong with crying If anybody says that they’re that strong they’re lying See crying is like taking your soul to the Laundromat It’s like the feeling that you get when you see your Grand-mama smile Or the heavens open up and blessing rain down Go on child and cry Go on and cry, cry, cry We can cry together