One month.

I have learned that God is not a consolation prize, but a promise that will never stop being true.

I have learned that our hearts don’t break, but just get bruised and get better.

I have learned that it is okay to cry

            That being open takes a lot of energy

                    And that sometimes it's okay to say, "not right now"

I have learned that changing habits and changing names in your phone are not the same thing.

I have learned to seek the light

            To praise God for manna

                        And to break jars of identity at His feet.

I have learned that beds are both dungeons and castles

            dead ends and innerstates

                        And laps to cry in

I have learned again what it means to laugh with your belly

And what it means to sing from your heart, saying the words so boldly you are sure they are true

                        And for the first time in a long time,

            They are.

I have learned that follow outshines trumps failure

            That when the focus shifts, your gaze is broadened

                        And that there is no shame in giving yourself time to feel anger, and joy, and remorse, and regret, and pain, and hatred, and love. And it is okay if every single one of those emotions happens three times a day; because dammit, it is hard to learn how to accept that something that was is suddenly just a memory bank full of broken promises. 

And after a month I am learning that I still don’t have answers.
I have good days

And days when I wake up at 5:30 convinced I am as terrible as you made me feel a month ago.

And there are bad days

And days where I am so unbelievably renewed that I wonder why I didn’t do it myself.

Mostly I have learned that tension is a hard pill to swallow.

            Because it makes you starve and feast all at once.