Maybe Not Today

I’ve learned something about myself.

No matter how many times life drags me through the mud,
no matter how many storms leave me battered,
bruised,
or questioning everything,

I always come back.

Maybe not immediately.

Maybe I’ll spend a few days curled up with my grief,
staring at the ceiling,
letting the weight of it all settle where it needs to.

Maybe I’ll cry.
Maybe I’ll rage.
Maybe I’ll disappear into myself for a little while.

But eventually,
I will stand.

I’ll dust the dirt from my shoulders,
wipe the blood from my lip,
take a deep breath,
and start again.

Not because I’m fearless.
Not because I’m unbreakable.

Because I’m me.

And every version of me—
the exhausted one,
the heartbroken one,
the angry one,
the hopeful one—
knows the same truth.

I have survived every bad day that has ever found me.

Whatever is waiting ahead,
whatever tries to knock me down next,

it should know this,

I always get back up.

Maybe not today.
Maybe not tomorrow.

But I will.

I am good at surviving.

And lately,
I’ve become pretty good at living, too.

Stay Weird. Love You. Mean It.