Are we there yet?
Tonight I feel like a kid driving with my parents on a far away road trip, asking “are we there yet?”
I always knew life would not be easy for someone like me. I tasted the depth, breath and height of true love when I was 13 years old. I felt the crushing pain and despair of a heart broken when I was 14 years old. In the years since then, my heart has been bashed around like I’m in a caged match with the world’s best professional fighter and I’m amateurishly trying to keep myself barely breathing. Sometimes I consider how much easier it would be to simply tap out. Give up. Succumb to the pain that is like a billion constant blows to my body.
But in my moments of most mangled madness, I remember that this is a game in which I have a support team. People who cheer me on, plaster my wounds and give me the refreshing drink of hope to keep me going. People who take over like this is a relay match and fight my battles for me. People worth fighting for.
The problem is, like with a road trip, eventually you run out of fuel. Running on empty requires a stop to refuel and stretch your legs. Sounds good right? Sounds like something we can all do with. Problem with me is that I’m all too aware that we’re not there yet. This is only a quick stop. This is only the rest before round two.
So I’m left wondering: Are we there yet? Will we ever get there? And if we do, have we become so travel weary we won’t even appreciate where we’ve arrived at, but instead complain about the long road we had to travel to get there…