Before my accident, I kept saying the same thing to myself: I want to be in the best shape of my life when I turn 60. I meant it. I was hiking, walking, going to the gym. I was building strength in my body and imagining a future where I kept getting stronger, not weaker. Then the accident happened. I was still 59. I turned 60 in a hospital bed. I lost a leg. I fractured my other leg in multiple places. I broke ribs. I had vertebrae injuries. My body went into heart and kidney failure. Pain became constant, not occasional. Everything I thought I was building… was suddenly gone. And for a long time, I couldn’t understand something: If I was focusing on health, strength, and vitality… how did I end up here? I used to think maybe I did something wrong. Maybe I thought wrong. Maybe I “manifested” the wrong thing. But I’m starting to see something different now. Life isn’t a formula where good thoughts guarantee safe outcomes. Bodies exist in a world where accidents happen, s...
How many times have I shrunk to fit,
Dimmed my light, made my fire unlit?
Softened my power, silenced my grace,
Just to make others feel safe in their space?
I made myself small so they could stand tall,
Blended in, invisible, nothing at all.
Yet I was born to rise, to shine, to be seen,
Not to fade like a forgotten dream.
But when you hide, your light grows dim,
Like a candle flickering in the wind.
And when you’re ready to reclaim your flame,
You start from ashes, not the same.
I regret the moments I stepped aside,
Believed the lie, let my soul subside.
I once stood boldly, fierce and free,
But shrank because they feared me.
Never again.
We each have a purpose, a light to reveal,
A gift to share, a wound to heal.
And when we don’t—when you don’t, too—
The world loses a piece of you.
I now embrace my radiant might,
No more shadows—I am the light.
And when I stand in all I am,
I give others the strength to stand.
By Jean Marshall - The Artful Woman
.png)
Comments
Post a Comment