It is 7:36 in the morning. I’m sitting at my desk, wrapped in a red blanket. My bedroom window is open. I could close it, but I don’t want to shut out the sound of the birds in the trees outside.

There was a time, not long ago, that I hated the sounds of morning.

They used to hurt. In my head and in my eyes. And in some empty place deep within. A place I was trying to fill with alcohol.

There was never enough room for both the alcohol and the morning sounds.

Early morning is a time of reflection for me. I don’t have to wake up. I get to wake up. I get to reflect on where I was 14 months ago. On who I was. I was a scared boy slogging through a daily routine devoid of meaning. Dragging my lonesome spirit through the desert. Doing so many things I didn’t want to do.

Because I thought I had to. Because I thought that was what I was worth. Because my childhood cult taught me that everyone else was more important than me.

It was so deeply ingrained in me that I hardly took the time to consider the possibility there could be another truth. Even after my family left them, their beliefs and teachings remained rooted.

If you’ve ever attempted therapy or recovery, then you know how difficult it can be to fix the frayed wiring in your brain. You’re not simply trying to repair what someone else broke. You’re trying to tear down and rebuild an entire set of core values that were not only created broken, but you’ve been using them broken your whole life. Sure, some of the wires might end up in the same spots. But you can’t know that until you tear and rebuild.

I am grateful to have the opportunity to rebuild. As great and terrible as that process has been at times, it is also bright and beautiful.

If no one has told you today that they love you, I love you. You can heal. You can be happy. And you are absolutely worth it.

Image by Hans from Pixabay