Skip to main content

The Glass Ceiling of Fear

"You can't "prop up" a person that refuses to stand."-me

Recently, I asked one of my "homeboys" to read a few of my blog posts and help "plug the gap" where my feet often stumbled.

He didn't read one, but he read all of them!

After a gut-wrenching, "throat punch of truth," he unleashed the dragon.

I was knee-deep in the swamp of hot ashes.

Needless to say, I had allowed fear to become my glass ceiling!

Each time, I took off running for the hills, I looked back to the valley for "familiar hands."

The "child within" had learned to go without the things needed most; so as an adult,

I counseled my fears.
I nursed my vulnerabilities.
I coached my failures.

However, my hands kept reaching for the "mentor within" that the younger version of me survived without.


Let's face it! Kids learn what they live, even inherited dysfunction.

Grown-up habits can resurface as future hurdles.
Childhood denials can become adult superhighways of constant delays.
Lack breeds superficial lust.
Past avoidance can manifest as future addictions.

Over the years, I kept a "trigger finger" on my pain.
I had a love-hate relationship with my process.

My "healing" wasn't a linear race that I could just sprint to without:

the highs and lows,
bumps and bruises,
wins and failures.

Therefore, my frustration unraveled each time I placed my insecurities on the altar for public display.

They say the highest form of rejection is choosing something/someone that doesn't choose you in return; so don't let the relationship that you neglect, be the one from within.

Offer love.
Offer hope.
Offer patience.

Don't sit in the pit of your pain, nursing a passive aggressive bandage, because the enemy within has convinced you that evolution is selfish.

You can either be passive in pity or productive at healing!

Kick the crutch of superficial validations from underneath the surface of your foundation.

Heal at your pace.
Grow in His grace.          
Maybe you were created to help ease the pain by ushering the broken-hearted to the Divine Healer.



Comments

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...

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 ...

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 ...