“Everyone has inside of him a piece of good news. The good news is that you don’t know how great you can be! Ho much you can love! What you can accomplish! And what your potential is!”
– Anne Frank
I am always humbled when I read Anne Frank. She reminds me that my life is quite uneventful in comparison to hers, and amazingly delightful. Whenever I sit with my woe-is-me-response to life, her words adjust my thinking.
I am inspired by her perseverance in staying the course with her beliefs, as in this quote: “In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can’t build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery, and death.”
I am reminded of the choice I hold in my hands each and every day. The choice to become who I want to be. That even in the most difficult and challenging of times I can hold on to what’s dear to me if I choose to, even if that may only be in my heart.
Like today.
I woke this morning with disturbance nipping at my soul, or more like ravaging it. I thought of calling a friend, conversing about what swirled my mind with all kinds of thoughts, and then I realized I needed to sit across from someone and talk.
Sometimes it’s imperative to be seen, witnessed, as if my ability to change relies on the physical presence of another; I cannot hide anything then.
I texted a friend for coffee.
I offered my disturbance, my tears, my fears, my mishmash of thinking, and my friend helped me sort through, organize my facts and fantasies. I can’t tell you the relief I felt, the relief that stayed with me for the rest of the day, the relief that aligned my mind with the action I needed to take.
Meeting with my friend and being real about me generated an opening in the world for me to make a choice. I could stay in the old perceptions of me, the fantasies that didn’t end in white knights saving the day and butterflies cloaking me in silk. These old fantasies are evil and dangerous and destroy me.
Or I could step out into the light, choose to trust what my friend offered me, and believe differently. I chose to step out into the light. White knights and butterflies may not rescue me, but I do have the strength to make choices that do.
Am I cured? Are all my dark fantasies pummeled and obliterated? No, they will surface again, but each time I stand up to them they get smaller, weaker. I am better able to move toward what Anne Frank speaks to: “And what your potential is!”
Thank you, my friend. I am forever grateful.
Weathered Well 