He had been shot twice already.
“I’m snaking down the road, leaving a trail of blood and trying to miss a third. I had one thought in my mind the whole time:
I’m never gonna see my daughter.
I’m never gonna see my daughter.
I’m never gonna see my daughter.”
He’d tell you he wasn’t perfect.
But no one is.
His wife was pregnant and he had a reason to live. He had to get back home. And to him, that was all that mattered.
So this isn’t about what’s owed, earned, or expected.
It’s about those nights that you dream you are falling. Certain death imminent. But you wake up in a cold sweat and realize…..you’re alive.
That feeling of escaping death. That feeling of being fully present….maybe for the first time.
Some folks are just living the path of least resistance. They want to drift. Just get by. Just make it to the next day. Netflix and chill. Rinse and repeat.
But at some point, you’ve got to live life like you’re actually ALIVE.
Take some ownership. And make something happen.
We’ve only got so many breaths. How do you want to live those last few? Drinking with strangers in a bar? Downing pills? Sticking a needle in your arm? Meaningless relationships? Turning your back on your kids?
I know it sounds obvious. But that’s because the examples I used were so drastic. They don’t have to be. You can drown in the ocean or in a few inches of water. Doesn’t matter which. The end results are the same.
Hell isn’t a place of fire and torture. It’s a step in the wrong direction. You take too many of those and it’s going to feel impossible to get out.
Or maybe someone else dragged you there. Either way you’ve got to get out.
It’s not impossible. You’ve just got to start. One small step at a time.
That’s where a lot of people get lost. They make a decision to turn around and they don’t understand why nothing in their life is better. They want immediate results. And I don’t blame them. But unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way.
My new friend. the one above. the one I met randomly at a bar. the one that told me his story. the one that tried to buy me a drink called “liquid marijuana” (don’t worry mom, I declined). My new friend tells me he’s made some mistakes. But he tells me his kids turned out better than he could have ever imagined. Better than he deserved.
It’s never too late to stop the free fall. To wake up. And start living.
It may take years to get out of hell. Years to escape depression. Years to feel recovered from addiction. Years to reconcile with family. Years to get out of debt and actually have some financial stability. Years to fall in love again.
But the journey is worth it. You’re worth it.
I can’t promise you that everything is going to be okay.
But I can promise you that everything is going to be okay.
Wake up Oh Sleeper
Rise from the dead and climb out of your coffin”
—Ephesians 5:14
p.s.
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