Statues

“I cannot fathom how tall your trees could grow if you stopped chopping the tops for fear of someone else cutting you down.”

Insecurity. I think this is something every heart has felt. Each person has compared themselves to another. We have all looked in the mirror and wished to see someone else. We have all stood frozen in time, lies running through our head, slowly tying us to the ground, watching life pass us by, unable to move. We are statues. Glued together with lies. Held together by hate. Not hate for anyone else, but hate for ourselves. The saddest part? Each day we miss out on another beautiful part of life simply because we cannot stop listening to the tape we play in our heads. We have it on repeat. We can’t get enough. Somehow we find comfort in tearing ourselves down, rather than building ourselves up. We are okay with remaining the statues we have become. Because the fear of not measuring up is enough to chain us to the ground forever. Over the years our cement cracks, moss grows over, the air around us becomes grey.. and eventually our home becomes a land of ruin. We are still stuck. We are unable to grow. Unable to love. Unable to feel. In the distance we see a world that is much better than this existence. We see a world where happiness grows and laughter vibrates the air. It has a glow of light that we can’t quite understand. Because you see, we have become so used to this darkness we have created for ourselves, that light has become a foreign concept. How sad. We are not prisoners. We are free to go anytime we please. Yet every morning we secure the shackles around our ankles and try to walk around. Never remembering that we tried to walk yesterday too, only to fall on our faces and wonder how we had gotten there. We were never meant to have this existence. We were meant to walk in light and grow in love. We were meant to walk without fear of falling and laugh with authentic joy. We were meant to live in a world made of brilliant colors where we are thriving instead of dying. Insecurity is a demon that can easily rob us of the life we were meant to live. But only if we let it. Friend, its never too late to unlock the prison of insecurity that has held you captive for so long. It is never too late to become used to the light and unfamiliar to the dark. It is never too late to replace the lies in your head with the truth. It is never too late to write a new ending to your story. It is never too late to thrive and not just survive. It is never too late. Never.

Write new words to the tape that plays in your head. Words of truth and love. Then put it on repeat. And just wait for the light to take root and for your feet to run a race more invigorating and rewarding than you’ve ever known. You were never made to be a statue. Go be a radiant cloud of light that leaves hope wherever it goes.

{Day 61}

Photo_Challenge (61)-1

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