There’s some serious reconstruction happening, friends. It started right around the time I left for Detroit and it’s happening now. It hits me when I step back into this blog and realize it’ll be more than a month since my last post.
A month. I remember times when I’d shun a plate of tacos to get a post posted. Like anything, nothing stays the same. Sometimes there’s work to be done and walls to demolish and structure to save, and sometimes the work feels tedious and pointless.
And sometimes the light breaks through at just the right angle. It illuminates something just well enough to show you a way, to demonstrate what’s possible. Even when you feel like you’re in the middle of the impossible.
The slow demolition of the small, old arena attached to the former Cobo Center stopped me in my tracks during my stay in Detroit. When you freeze a moment on the decomposition of one element for another? It gives you incredible insight.
It forces you up at 2 a.m. with words composing in your tired mind. It feels like death and rebirth all at once. It’s exposed beams and framework that stood the test of time falling victim in the name of progress.
I’ll return with Go Ask Daddy and 6 words. #gratitudeandshit and #GirlsRock aren’t gone. Mindful posts and tales of misadventures a man they still call coach and daddy are coming. #girlsrock especially – I have so many conversations to share with you!
Until then … the deconstruction – and simultaneous reconstruction – plods along for me.
There’s evidence of progress amid the rubble. Clothes that fit better. Yoga, without F-bombs. And still, the aches and pains are real, too. That painful relief of retiring from another 18-hour day, wondering how your body will hold up.
There’s space for new. But also, mounds of what once composed your best self, categorized in ruins. Bits of you that must necessarily crumble if there’s any saving. And reminders that such work takes strength and it takes time.
There are portions of a soul that felt essential to existence that now have no purpose. It takes longer to let go of these. In your former self, they were the pillars that framed the rest. They identified you. Their absence will feel wrenching for some time.
Some cornerstones bore such weight, felt indispensable in their function. As walls collapse, they become obstacles. You cling to them anyway because they anchor you. Some days the vision of possibility just feels hopeless. But the work continues.
The details of your own rebirth require closer review. Manage that, and you’ll see doors closed off for your own good. Warnings that what got you here won’t get you there, no matter how tightly you cling to it out of fear.
Will anyone miss this me? Will anyone understand this post? Deep dives reveal connections lost, pipelines that no longer serve. The soreness surfaces only when you see it. You realize you’ve already moved on, already shifted your circles elsewhere.
Sometimes, dreams of what once was will rouse you from essential rest. It’ll spur you to get up and get writing despite the hellacious load ahead. You must pause mid-destruction, and move around despite the mess around you.
The excruciating process of tearing down is also a testament to the strength you had to get here. Let’s not lose that. Take note, and power on with the intent to girt your framework to become even more galvanized than ever before.
Can’t stop now. Clearing the old is to make way for the new. The present. Once you realize the value of the space the former occupies, first to go away, and second to host a wellspring of you, you’ll attack its clearing with vigor.
The inconceivable concedes ground for potential. Devastation becomes removable. Armload by armload, space opens. You care less about its immediate new purpose and instead reserve the right to practice patience when it comes to filling it.
Here for long doesn’t mean here for good. What once was isn’t what’s now best. Sometimes these elements stand stalwart in our lives, refusing to budge. And that’s why we must keep on swinging. Not relinquish the task until it’s totally complete.
Some messages you’ve received stay in permanent ink. But they’re buried and don’t reach daylight unless you let them. You often can’t vanquish them completely, They’re both irrelevant and part of your very fabric. Don’t sweat them.
Feeling a bit under construction? Remember …
Mental toughness is admirable – even if we dread having to be mentally tough.
Quit, and the world goes on around you. Rather, stay the course.
It’ll take a moral compass and inventiveness to arrive there – but it’ll be worth it.
Fog will lift. Mountains will level. There’s opportunity unseen.
It’s not for others to need to understand. Read that again.
Don’t lose sight of YOUR thing. Not someone else’s that you covet.
Keep. Going. It’s in stopping that we fail. When it’s ugliest, this becomes most critical.
You don’t have to see the whole path – just the next step, and then the next.
Never move forward without hope. Not even a step.
See you here soon. I’ll wear a nametag.