Be a Full Person.
It feels like a lifetime ago when I wrote this, but it’s actually been less than a year. Six months, maybe? It’s crazy how fast things change. At first, my shoulders slump and I go to throw the list away, but something stops me.
I read the items off the list out loud, and by the time I reach the end, my lips have curled into a soft, bittersweet smile. I’ve accomplished every one of them. Every single one of the goals I’d written for myself, I’ve achieved or completed in one way or another. Something like pride surges through me.
I might not be where I want to be, but I’ve come a long way from where I was, and I’m not giving up. My heart may be aching, but it’s still beating; and my life might be difficult, but for the first time in almost twenty-nine years, it’s mine.
The realization is liberating.
I fold the list in half and put it in my back pocket with the intention of keeping it safe in my bedroom. Proof of progress. An artifact of hope.