Moments.

I woke up in my childhood bedroom. The room that had been mine for 18 years of my life.

Now 28, I have (a couple!!) gray hairs, a few wrinkles, more weathered skin, these new audible moans whenever I have to stand up, more rich and varied experiences — hopefully more wisdom.

I woke up in my childhood bedroom.

I looked in the mirror.

How did I get here?

I was, for what felt like the one hundred millionth time, in a seemingly low spot in my life — in my psyche.

A few months ago, I had been at the top of the world. The most in shape I had been in years, confident, balanced, positive — someone I wanted to be around, someone I had wanted to become — someone I always was. I felt like I had finally reached the place I wanted to be. That I had overcome the things I needed to overcome.

But when I woke up in my childhood bedroom a few months later, I was not that person anymore.

Because, as I had so many times in the past, the few months prior to going home for the holidays, I had lost it.

I had lost that realization — that wisdom — that ability to believe in more for myself. I had lost it and so I had sabatoged. As soon as I was up, I didn’t take too long to bring myself right back down.

Why?

———

The other day I was worrying about something ridiculous. Something that made no sense. Something that I knew was completely and utterly irrational. It had been keeping me up at night. It had been keeping me from following my dreams. I walked into my mom’s room.

“Hey. Can I talk something out because I know this makes no sense. I know this is just my mind trying to sabotage my progress, BECAUSE THIS IS SO STUPID. And, I know I’ve been doing this to myself for so long and I thought I was really done this time, but I just, I guess my mind is still playing tricks sometimes. Can we talk it out?”

I know my brain and my thoughts inside and out. My brain and my thoughts are my worst enemy, and my best friend. While they used to constantly outsmart me, allowing me to believe the stories they sometimes told — I now am quicker to catch them when something isn’t right. To investigate when something they’re preoccupied with doesn’t add up.

But not always. Sometimes, I still struggle. Sometimes, I’m not always so quick.

———

I once wrote a piece titled, “The Piece I Was Always Supposed to Write”. In it, I talked about what seemed to be my breakthrough lesson at the time. I thought I had found it. I thought I had had that conversation. I thought I had heard that quote. I thought I had found the thing that would make me better — the thing that would make me whole.

That was five years ago.

———

A lot of people talk about moments. How a moment can change your life — will change your life.

How someone said something to them, something happened to them, they read something, they experienced something, they did something — that changed them.

How, from that moment on, they were different.

And they’re right. Each moment does shift us, change us — leave us different than before.

But what if for some of us, it’s not about the big moment that changed everything. What if, for some of us, it’s about a bunch of small moments that, slowly but surely, changed it all.

We all have different life events and experiences. Some of us have larger events that truly will change our lives in an instant — that will change the way we show up forever.

But for me, as I have navigated dealing with battling different demons and internal obstacles for a number of years in my young adult life — this hasn’t been the case.

It’s been a conversation here and a quote that stood out to me there.

It’s been a breakthrough that came out via writing here and a podcast that spoke to me there.

It’s been a book.

It’s been another book.

It’s been another conversation.

It’s been a failure. And then another. And then another. And then one more after that.

As I’ve worked through these things to find my sense of freedom, balance, confidence, and peace within the world and who I am — I’ve done the work.

I’ve worked with therapists and coaches. I’ve read the books. I’ve listened to the podcasts. I’ve had the conversations. I’ve done the plans. I’ve written hundreds of blogs and essays. I’ve had millions of breakthroughs.

I’ve failed a thousand times.

I’ve had hundreds — thousands — of moments.

Each time I have one of these moments, I think it’s it. I think it’s the one. I think it’s my final breakthrough, my final realization — my final moment.

And then, I fail. Somehow, I fail.

But each time I get up, I’m stronger than I was before. Each time I fall, I spend less time on the ground. Each time I rise up, it takes me longer to fall back down. Each time I lose my footing, I do so differently than before — because I am different and more filled with wisdom than before.

Each time I fail, another moment comes around.

Each failure has changed me. Each moment has changed me.

Each and every failure and moment following have left me stronger than before.

Each and every time I have risen, I have done so in more grace than before.

Each and every time I have gotten back up I have been bigger — better than before.

So maybe it’s all of these moments. Maybe it’s all of these failures, that make us.

Maybe it’s all of these lessons, these setbacks, these perceived shortcomings — that are growing us into who we are meant to be.

Maybe we should stop being afraid to fall — maybe we should stop beating ourselves up each time we do.

Maybe each failure is bringing us to our next moment — one that is bigger — better than before.