There was a time that I was called, by many, a warrior.
I have fought for the life I dreamed of and found it, I have fought through what most thought what was the inevitability of death and rose above.
For a long time, I looked for a different word than “fight” – but truly, nothing fits this better.
I will always fight for something better – whether it be myself or others – but it’s usually me, usually the things that have been ingrained in me that I battle.
Eventually, I always win – for now.
A warrior is not your everyday ignorant fighter – there is discipline involved, knowing the good from the bad, knowing the battles that you’re above, knowing the battles you can’t win and walking away.
When the person you battle is yourself, the same rules apply. The same discipline. The same grace.
This is my life right now, looking over my past and yearning for a better future because of it. I fight. I learn. I battle the ghosts and old bones inside of me.
I’m learning again, teaching myself, climbing up to grace.
Eighteen months in a hospital and all that went with it crushed me…
But I will be that warrior again – and I will bring you with me – if you desire.