I'm not sure what to write, I just know that I should.
Here I am free, here I can be me with no apology. I don't have to hide here. I'm tiered of hiding and running away. Today I face my today.
I've been avoiding today by thinking about tomorrow, or worse yet, about months to a year ahead. I don't have to worry about that, because what I do today is what is important. If I can complete today's task I will reach tomorrow and all it's glory.
I like what my friend said to me, "Today is Yesterday's future." It's so simple and so true. I worry so much about the future that I forget today is the future of yesterday.
I want to rush and get everything done all at once, but life doesn't work that way. I need to take it slow and easy. Even with the idea of dating. I want it and I want it now, but I also don't want it, and I don't know how it will fit into my future or now. But that doesn't matter today, because that is not an option or an issue right now.
I've been letting fear and heaviness rule me, but I'm done with that. I am free and done with those controlling me. Shame, I'm working on you with this first story...
For so long I have struggled with shame driving my every decision and letting the fear of not being good enough rule my life. I use to make major life choices based on what other people would view as impressive or as good. But those choices where not always what I truly wanted. I am slowing coming to the acceptance that what others think doesn't matter, and that I am the one that has to live with the choices I make.
What are some of these choices you might ask? I went to college as a confused young teenager because I was told that's what I was suppose to do. I did not know what I wanted to do with my life. My mother always told me, "You need to pick a path and stick to it. You change your mind every other week." I let the fear of disappointing her control me. I wasted thousands of dollars to go to school to change majors three times in two years and only learn one true thing. I have no idea what I want to do with my future.
I was anxious and depressed. I hated everything and everyone, but only because I hated myself more. That was when my life changed... A random guy who sat next to me in one of my classes started talking with me about issues he had with the church, and how many of them don't represent Jesus anymore. I agreed with him and voiced some of my frustrations as well. (See I was raised very strictly in a very religious home, but grew to hate the church because they had wounded me.) Classes ended, but this strange cute man kept talking to me, so I kept talking to him. We went to my work study office, where he then word for word quoted the prayer I had prayed to God the night before.
The church had hurt me badly and seemed to always be pointing out my flaws and ended put casting me. He looked me in the eyes and said, "You feel unheard and unseen, but God head you even when you said 'God, F*** the church! It's just you and me! If that's what church is I don't want it! I want you and only you! The rest of the world can suck i*." I was a bit more vulgar then, but that was where I was at, and God could use that. I hit the ground crying. For the first time ever I felt seen and heard. I knew that boy could lead me to some answers. So I asked where he went to church. He told me about this cute little country church that would teach me things that would change my life.
When I was in the pit even though my cries where colorful and ugly God heard them, and he hears yours to. You're not too far gone, and the best part about darkness is that any light is noticeable. I pray you look to the light in the darkness and that you hear his call when you cry out to him.
I don't want to live in my shame and let it over take me. I'm breaking it and divorcing it. I will live a honorable life, one that is full of grace and love. This is my first step.
About the Creator
Mary Jimenez
I am a Christian who struggles in life, but who is also living a crazy exciting life with God. I want to share my story though. I want to share my story about struggling with anxiety, depression, and not feeling good enough.
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The Long Walk No One Applauded The penguin did not know why he started walking. There was no dramatic goodbye, no sudden disaster that forced him away. One morning, he simply stood at the edge of the colony and felt something unfamiliar pressing against his chest—an unease that could not be named. Around him, the others huddled close, sharing warmth, sharing noise, sharing certainty. Everything was as it had always been. And yet, something was missing. The ice stretched endlessly ahead, pale and unforgiving. No one walked that way unless they were lost, reckless, or foolish. The elders said nothing good waited beyond the familiar paths. The young laughed at the idea of leaving safety behind. Even the wind seemed to whisper warnings. Still, the penguin took one step forward. Then another. At first, he expected someone to call out to him. A voice telling him to come back. A wing pulling him gently home. But no one noticed. Or maybe they noticed and chose not to care. Either way, silence followed him as faithfully as his shadow. The cold deepened with every step. Snow crept into his feathers, biting at his skin. The ground was uneven, cracked in places, deceptively smooth in others. Each footstep left a mark behind—small, temporary, easily erased by the wind. He wondered if his journey would be just as temporary. By the second day, doubt arrived. It did not come loudly. It never does. It slipped into his thoughts quietly, asking reasonable questions. Why are you doing this? What are you trying to prove? Who do you think you are? Doubt walked beside him like an old friend, matching his pace, never pushing, never pulling—just talking. He stopped once, turning back to look at the horizon behind him. The colony was no longer visible. Only endless white in every direction. For the first time, fear outweighed curiosity. He sat down on the ice, tucking his head into his chest. The wind howled above him, indifferent to his smallness. Tears froze before they could fall. He thought of warmth. Of belonging. Of how easy it would be to turn around and pretend this walk had never happened. But when he stood again, he surprised himself by facing forward. He did not feel brave. He felt stubborn. And sometimes, that was enough. Days blurred together. The sky shifted from gray to darker gray. Hunger gnawed at him, sharp and constant. His steps slowed. His body ached. There were moments when he whispered apologies—to himself, to the life he had abandoned, to the life he had not yet earned. No one watched him struggle. No one recorded his persistence. There were no medals for continuing when quitting made sense. At night, he dreamed of voices calling his name, but he could never see their faces. He woke each morning with the same question: Is this worth it? The answer did not come. Instead, something else did. On the seventh day, the storm arrived. It came without warning, swallowing the sky and the ground until there was no difference between up and down. Snow struck him sideways, fierce and blinding. The wind roared like a living thing, furious at his existence. He fell more than once, struggling to rise, his legs trembling beneath him. This was where journeys ended. Curled against a jagged ridge of ice, he waited for the storm to decide his fate. He was too tired to fight it, too tired to think. All he could do was breathe and hope the cold did not steal that too. In the quiet space between exhaustion and sleep, he understood something important. No one was coming to save him. And strangely, that realization did not break him. It steadied him. When the storm finally passed, it left behind a transformed world. The ice glimmered under a pale, fragile sun. The air was sharp but still. The silence felt different now—not empty, but respectful. The penguin stood slowly, testing his weight, expecting pain that never came. He was thinner. Weaker. But still standing. Ahead, far in the distance, something rose from the ice. A mountain. Its peak pierced the clouds, dark and resolute, a red flag fluttering at its summit. He did not know what the flag meant or who had placed it there. He only knew that seeing it made his heart beat faster. For the first time since he began walking, he smiled. The path toward the mountain was not easier. If anything, it was harder. The slope was steep, the air thinner. Each step demanded effort. But now, every step had direction. The doubts returned, quieter now, less convincing. Fear still existed, but it no longer controlled him. Pain became familiar, almost comforting—a reminder that he was alive and moving. As he climbed, memories surfaced. Moments of being overlooked. Of being told he was too slow, too quiet, too different. Of being laughed at for wanting more than survival. Those memories no longer hurt. They fueled him. 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By Inayat khan3 days ago in Motivation
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