This Work

This work that I am doing, it feels like I am demons. In some ways I am: they are that nasty. But 'they' are not separate from me. 'They' are the thoughts, deep deep way way way down, that somewhere along the line my mind decided to tuck away for keeps--driving me forever forward, stripping away creativity, gratitude, truth-telling.

In a sense then, they are demons of my minds creation; they are definitely not angels, nor are they helpful. Thoughts--beliefs--I have barely managed to ever speak aloud: I am broken. I am meaningless. I am not worth living for.

Me? I think these things about Me? Erica? Creative and joyful and loving?

Yes. I don't like to admit it, but these beliefs live in the dark recesses of my mind that want control--I am broken; I am meaningless; I am not worth living for--they exist.

But they are FALSE.

And this work I am doing--standing in my authority, noticing, truth-telling, clear on purpose--it is hard work. But it is radical work.

Pulling it up by its roots. Throwing the demons away.

Why?

Because I am worth it. I am so worth it. Life is worth it, too.