Some days are great. Some days are good. Some days are pure failure episodes. Many of us challenge ourselves to shoot for the moon, knowing that even if we do not hit that target, we will still land amongst the stars. The internal battles that many of us face on a daily basis are enough to make us scream, cry, and laugh simultaneously. Our individual mountains are not to be compared with another individual’s mountains. Our stories are different. Our journeys are different. That does not mean we are alone.
Some days, we have what seems to be thousands of people rooting for us. Some days, it appears that we only have a select few individuals walking with us. Some days, it is just you. Some days, you do not even believe in you. I know that is my truth.
Some days, I am a great husband. Some days, I am not. I am distant. I focus on too many external things that could prove detrimental to my relationship and likely my overall well-being. I live inside of my mind, striving to make a way for family and friends. I consistently engage with others in an effort to offer value and create real moments of truth, beauty, and clarity. The sweltering fire inside of me to leave a legacy that lasts longer than I do creates partitions in my world that some days seem impossible to reconnect. The struggles, sacrifices, sleepless nights, stories I tell myself, and sad moments pull me deeper into an abyss of focus and relentless persistence to change the nature of my family tree. The paradox of my journey is that some days it appears to do the opposite. Even when I am home, I am not there. She looks into my eyes, and some days, I would imagine, sees a focus that is borderline obsessive. She looks into my eyes, and some days, I would imagine, sees a man who does not know what to do so he shifts his energy to the community and to the words that he chooses to speak and write on a regular basis. She looks into my eyes, and some days, I would imagine, sees a man who is trying to recreate lost moments from his childhood so that he can make his family life better. She looks into my eyes, and some days, I would imagine, sees a faith-filled man who believes in the unwavering power and presence of God and yet struggles to claim his place within his Divinely inspired space. Some days, I am a great husband. Some days, I am not. Fortunately, the matriarch of our house tolerates this cause and does not allow my inadequacies, fears, and failures to decrease her support of me. I keep trying to do better. Many have cautiously warned me that I have to do better. I listen. Some days, I listen better than other days. Every day, I try.
Some days, I am a great dad. Some days, I am not. I am not home enough to proclaim greatest dad in the world. Some days, I push baby girl to the point of exhaustion. Some days, I do not push at all because I am not there. Some days, I do not play with baby boy enough because I am not there. Some days, I wonder if they will forgive me for working so hard and trying to make a way. Some days, I wonder if it even matters. Some days, I do a great job of teaching them life-learned lessons. Some days, I do not. Some days, I think back to my childhood and realize how hard my parents worked to provide us with opportunities that they did not have. Even knowing the complexity of their journeys, some days I can still remember my internal anger because my dad did not come to enough of my events. Some days, I try to convince myself that my kids will understand. Most days, I know that to be false. Some days, I feel sad because I do not know how to solve this problem. Every day, I try.
Some days, I am a great son and brother. Some days, I am not. Some days, I feel like having the financial resources to solve some of their problems is enough. Most days, I know that such thinking is an erroneous protective mechanism to guard my fragile heart. Some days, I push myself to my mental, emotional, and spiritual limits thinking about what more I can do to make their world better. Some days, I feel like a complete failure. Some days, I know that complete failure is an inaccurate assessment of my efforts. Some days, my soul is weary because my sister is home alone dealing with aging parents. She has to handle things of which I know not. Some days, I wonder if she will forgive me for my absence. Some days, I wonder if my parents will do the same. Some days, I work so hard to create this façade of success because I know it will make them smile. Some days, hearing the laughter and excitement that result from some new achievement of mine is enough to help me make it through that particular day. Most days, I know that the temporary euphoria will wear off and the reality that I cannot provide in the way that I deem acceptable remains. I know that I will get there, but some days are harder than other days. Some days, I stand in the mirror and worry that I am not doing the best that I can. Most days, I know that such self-criticism is vexatious to the soul. Some days, I even cry. Every day, I try.
Some days, I share my journey with the world. Most days, I do not. Some days, the fireball of energy inside of me can be overwhelming. Most days, I know that I have to simply slow my mind. Some days, I feel like I am doing solid in life. Some days, I know that I can do much more. Some days, I know my breakthrough is right around the corner. Most days, I know that I have to keep walking. Some days, my mind is at peace. Some days, it is a whirling universe of chaos. Some days, I do more than other days. Every day, I try.
I make no excuses because I know that excuses do not get results.
Heart felt–thanks for sharing!