It was a great weekend for my family. My brother and my mother both celebrated their birthdays and we did so with miles and miles of love.
Right in the middle of the weekend was a heavy-contemplative, early Sunday morning. I laid in the bed and read an article about an adult missing the freedom and comfort of childhood. More so, the freedom of understanding who they were as a child as opposed to becoming an adult with a foggy sense of being.
The rollercoaster of self-discovery never ends. It kind of feels like the tracks just keep going and some turns still make my stomach weak. Sifting through that article helped me in dealing with those emotions because it focused on something that I don’t pay enough attention to: grace for myself. We have a tendency to be tough on ourselves and attach to alternative-pasts, decisions we would make differently if we could go back in time to right our wrongs.