A Box Beneath the Bed

I guess we can enter this one as a note to self.
Am I right?
After all, that’s wat this is, right?
This is a note to self.

The ideas behind my journals and the notes that I used to hide because I was too afraid to tell anyone about this or my secret poems, which I would scribble down, and the intention behind all the little notes and notebooks that hid by my bed were nothing more than a written need to inspire my inner trinity.
My inner trinity is this: me, myself and I.

I see the world through shaded eyes. Then again, we all do.
I think about the misconceptions of our thinking errors and the cognitive distortions and how these lead us to distractions which take us away from our true selves — and I think about the way our views change, and our ideas hinder the way we think about our trinity.
Me, myself, and I.
Or, since it is us talking together, I can say this as you, yourself, and you.

I am no expert. I am not a professional. I am no guru by any means, and mostly, I am no different from anyone else in this world. I am confused. I have challenges.
I have fears and doubts. I have memories and recollections that are unfair, at best. I have trauma and I have a roadmap that can lead, like a treasure map, to which I can point out where I went wrong or veered from my path.
I have a series of memories and a compilation of events that took place in my life. Yes, safe to say these things changed me. Some of them hurt me beyond repair. I have abandonment issues. I have trust issues. I have been lied to and cheated on. I’ve had promises broken and yes, I’m afraid of the impending doom or that things are about to get worse.
But somehow, even when I swore that this was it, or when I swore that everything is over, I found myself at the bottom of my outcomes. Even in the worst of my aftermaths, somehow, I’m still here.

I know about heartbreak. I understand the remnants of believing that I was played for a fool or that I was lied to. And I was.
But so what?
I understand how it is in my heart to not be the one or to not be chosen. I understand the confines of a sad and frightening loneliness. I understand the worst of my assumptions, which is when I assumed that my fallouts and failures would dictate my happiness and that I would be alone for the rest of my life.

So, I will mark this down as a note to self.

You have to get up . . .
Get moving.
Motion changes emotion and emotion can dictate whether we stay the same, or if we remain stuck in the rut — or, if we choose, there is another side of the spectrum, which means we can push and make a change.
We can make a run for it.
We can get back up, no matter how hard we’ve been hit or how hurt we are — we can get back up and defy the times and make sure that no one hurts us like this or keeps us down.

We can realize that we didn’t belong where we were and that we chose to believe in pretty lies over facing the tough despair of an ugly truth.

I know about rejection. I know how it hurts. I know the ideas that roll through my head, and I know about anger, but what does this do for us?
How does this help us?
How does going back to what happened and trying to find out who is at fault change what took place? In the end, even if we have the answer and can rest the accountability on someone else, pain is pain and rejection is rejection, lies are lies and agendas are agendas. Therefore, in the end, where does this leave us?

Wouldn’t it be safer to say that this sort of thinking keeps you stuck in pain. Even more, all this does is lead you to reliving the moments that knocked you down and tore you apart.

I don’t care what happened anymore.
I don’t care about who lied.
I don’t care what took place . . .

It’s time to get up.
It’s time to move.
Can you do this for me?

I need you to push.
I need you to get up, as in right now.
And push yourself.
I need you to get up and fight back, and push until you can’t push anymore. If it hurts, I need you to eat the pain, endure, and push harder.
I need you to push harder than you’ve ever pushed before.
You can do it.
I know you can.

If you get tired, I need you to push through, and push harder, and if you find that you’re so tired that you can’t take another step, then I want you to breathe in, suck it up, and I’m going to need you to push again.

I don’t care if we move an inch or a mile. All I care about is that we put in effort.
This starts the daisy chain . . .
Effort makes changes and changes improves emotion and emotion improves feelings, which can improve thoughts and all of this is because we started by exchanging thoughts with actions, which means we pushed, and we created motion to improve emotion.

The more we push, the more we move. The more we move, the further the pain is, until eventually, the waste behind is like waste from our body, flushed down the toilet and unthought of and forgotten.

So, pardon the crudeness —wipe your ass, kid.
Don’t forget to flush the toilet and get moving.

All we have is this moment.
Right now.
We can’t fix everything at once.
But we can fix one thing at a time.

Set your stance and pick your spot.
Are you ready?
Good . . .
Maybe the saying on your t-shirt is right:
Nobody cares/Work harder

Maybe this is right.
But I don’t care who cares.
I care that we care.

So, get up.

You have to push yourself—

No matter what!