There is no calm in the storm. There is only chaos and confusion and doubt. There is me and there is the storm and it is just us Locked in a battle of power and I am not losing. I will not lose. It may not look like I am going anywhere but I have dropped anchor. The wind will not move me. I have battened down the hatches and though I am tossed at every wave I remain in place. There is light in my storm. There are the little things that bring me joy. Music. The breeze as winter turns into spring and the sun as it grows stronger warming my back and my heart at the same time. But for a year or so now I have remained in place and I am tired. Tired of fighting, tired of holding my ground, tired of existing and remaining instead of excelling and thriving. You can’t see the effort or exertion it took to remain above water. All you see is that I have not moved.
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