Skip to main content

I Am Not Okay...

"Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad." -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I have been hiding at the foot of the cross trying to make sense of the "unpredictability" of nature.

The mountains of inconceivable thought patterns, the valleys of erratic behaviors, and the swamp of illogical processes have surpassed my natural understanding.

In my confused chronological (headspace) rotation,

I have been the victim of a tumultuous, barren Winter.

I have sprung forward as the aggressive, assailant in Spring.

I have fallen back from the chaos, like the voice of reason in Fall.

I have been like the unwelcomed forest fires in Summer.

I have straddled the white picket, neutral fence of arbitration, full of hesitation, when the seasons don't fully align with the peace promised by the presence of moonlight.

I have cycled through a clone of "cosmic vibrations" that offend my spiritual well-being.

Therefore, I have bleed rivers of frustration, convictions of disappointment, and wounds of sadness.

After digging through the oil wells of subcutaneous complexities, I discovered the culprit rooted in my own flawed, illegitimate thinking.

I subjected myself to the prison of people pleasing.

I tortured myself by allowing the strongholds of inhumane circumstances to house my insecurities.

I longed for true healing and complete freedom, but settled for the highs and lows of seasonal acceptance.

Each time, I unveiled the mask, unraveled the bondage, and undressed the Depression, reoccurring nightmares of idols, dressed in long, white gowns, came to administer injections of vague prophecies.

So when you see me: sitting, silent, sad, and suffering?

Know- that I am NOT okay!

There I said it, 'I AM NOT OKAY!"

**Even when your hands can't possibly hold things that your heart doesn't rightfully understand, just send up genuine prayers.**

We're not looking for a fix, but will you put your faith "in agreement" for complete healing?

Acknowledge "the pain" of people's truth without judgment.

In the Alchemist, Paulo Coelho said, "Life attracts life."

What are you carrying?                                  

Seeds of life

or

seeds of destruction?







Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Broken Covenant

Once upon a time— I wanted to believe something was real so desperately that I silenced the Spirit within me just to keep the illusion alive. I saw every red flag— not as warnings, but as tests of how much  I was willing to endure to feel chosen. I asked no questions because truth was already whispering, and I feared what obedience would cost me. So I made a covenant with denial— calling lies “grace,” and confusion “patience,” because the truth felt too vast, too holy, too disruptive to the future I had built in my mind. I clung to potential like it was promise, and mistook absence for peace. Yet the weight of it— this thing I called love— crushed my spirit daily. Still, desperation dressed itself as loyalty and convinced me to stay. And it didn’t get better. It decayed. Quietly at first… then unmistakably. Each time God unveiled truth, I chose the comfort of shadows over the calling of light. I pleaded. I prayed. I begged— not for revelation, but for permission to remain where I w...
Post a Comment
Read more

From Chaos to Calm

After a while… the need to be heard at full volume begins to dissolve. The rooftops grow silent. The flames you once fed with trembling hands no longer feel like power— only exhaustion. What you burned never built a home. And somewhere along the way, you realize— not every echo returns, not every seed takes root, not every mountain was yours to climb. The grace you poured out like water in a desert, the love you offered with open, unguarded hands— it did not come back the way you imagined. And still… you are here. So instead of fighting what refuses to bend, you loosen your grip. Not in defeat— but in awakening. You release the need to be answered, to be chosen, to be understood by those who never learned your language. Your hands, once reaching outward, begin to rise— not in desperation, but in devotion. Upward. Open. Steady. God… I see You now in the quiet I once avoided. I hear You not in the thunder— but in the space where my striving used to live. And I am ready. Something within ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Do Not Resuscitate (DNR)

What unsettles me most about some people is not the harm they cause— but the silence that follows it. No conviction. No trembling. No evidence that a soul was ever stirred. As if something sacred once lived there… and quietly left. What remains is form without fire. A body that breathes, but does not  feel . A Walking corpse. Spiritually vacant,  yet socially skilled— fluent in imitation, but foreign to truth. They move through people like weather— touching everything, anchoring nowhere. I once mistook that emptiness for mystery. Confused detachment with depth. Thought restraint was discipline, when it was really disconnection. But there was  no rootedness in him— only appetite. An endless hunger dressed as desire. A man grazing on bodies, scrolling through souls like they were disposable moments. Not searching. Not building. Just consuming— to quiet something unnamed within him. Unhealed wounds don’t stay still. They wander. From bed to bed, from face to face, from high ...
Post a Comment
Read more