I Jumped

During a time where it’s feeling like a constant drudge through quicksand, I can still find happiness in the little things.
For that I am so grateful.
It’s the little things that keep me going.
The people that have shown me time and time again that we are not alone.
The friends that give me what they can to help.
The family that doesn’t let us go without anything.
The trainer that works with me and pushes me to tears.
Tears that I need to cry.

I did it.
I jumped.
Not on the big huge tall box, but on the plates that once looked so scary.
Standing in front of them it felt impossible.
I really don’t know what my fear is.
They still scare me.
I really don’t know why.

A friend told me to start with the bottom step at my house.
Start there.
Start small.
It’s embarrassing to admit, but I couldn’t do that.
I sat down on the stupid bottom step and cried.
What the heck?

It’s so interesting to me.
This journey to a new, better me.
The things I am learning about myself.
I would have never thought jumping up would be such a big deal.

The box jump.

Well, the plate jump.

I did it.
29 times.

It’s fitting that it was during a workout in honor of one of my best friends.
It’s funny that it was during one of the hardest months of my life.
Maybe I figured, what else can happen?
I hit my shin?
I fall on my face?
Compared to what is going on around me right now, whatever.

So I jumped.

Then I jumped again.


I did it.

I’ll get my 5 foot something self up on that box eventually.
I really do believe that now.

I have people in my life that believe in me until I can believe in myself.
Thank God.




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