Just like moons and like suns
with certainty of tides,
just like hopes springing high.
Still I rise

The tattoo on my left arm is a constant reminder of this poem by Maya Angelou (you can read the whole thing here). I decided to get this tattoo on my 30th birthday because those words “still I rise” will never not be true. After several years of struggling and sitting in the muck, I fought hard to uncover the girl who stands here today. There is still more of her to create and refine, but she’s a far cry from the one who once was.

Two years ago I wouldn’t have believed anyone if they said I was going to survive 2015. My soul was dying, or had died, and there seemed to be no hope of reviving it. But, in the midst of what seemed to be all death, there grew life. Like a flower pressing through the cracks of a sidewalk, hope pushed through.

There grew life where death once stood. 2015 felt like a period. It was the end of the story, there was no more to write. It wasn’t a period. It was a semicolon. The story goes on; slowly but steadily, my story goes on.

It continued on, changing and morphing as it went, but without pomp or circumstance. It changed how you fall asleep, slowly, then all at once so that it was hardly noticeable.

Just like moons and like suns
with certainty of tides,
just like hopes springing high.
Still I rise

Peace be the journey.