Friday, March 21, 2014

One More Day

When I go to the gym, I always want to hang up my sneakers and hit the showers after about twenty-five minutes, because I'm inevitably bored, sweaty, and convinced that someone is judging me. I realize, however, that less than half an hour on the treadmill does not a workout make, so I play a game with myself. I call it "Five More Minutes." If you could hear my internal monologue (and honestly, I'm not entirely sure that I haven't muttered it out loud on more than  one occasion), it would sound like this:

"Yes, Yellie, I realize this totally sucks, but give it five more minutes. You can do five more minutes. After five minutes, you can reassess."

I do my five minutes, and then usually realize I can keep going... Or I still want to bail and then play Five More Minutes again, and then, again, consider where I'm at until my workout is done. Because as it turns out, something like a half an hour doing an activity you don't love is an eternity. But five minutes is doable. Six five minute stretches in a row? They're tiny. 

Break it up into what you can manage, and go from there.


The Five More Minutes game is a holdover from a darker time in my life, one where I was in quite a bit of emotional turmoil and struggling. Every day, I thought, I'm not sure I want to do this anymore. I don't think I can stand it. Time stretched out before me, and that time looked bleak, dark and empty. 

I thought, "Yes, Yellie, this totally sucks. But give it one more day. You can do one more day."

And so I would. Because while I was in too much pain to figure out how I was going to cope with something as big as the rest of my life, I could sort of work out just tomorrow. After a whole bunch of One More Day talks, I found myself in a better place, surrounded by the people who had stuck by me the whole time, who had helped me get through each twenty-four hour period, and who were more than happy to help me to look at and plan for longer stretches of my life as soon as I was ready -- which, eventually, I was.


It can be hard -- in times of loneliness, in times of sadness, in times of struggle -- to feel like you can climb over those feelings to get someplace else. But you can. I promise you can. You are not alone. You are loved. You will be supported. You will not always be sad. When you want to give up, remember that you don't have to figure out all of the rest of your days. You just have to figure out one tomorrow at a time, one by one, until you find yourself reaching up towards the sun, out in the light -- which is where you always belonged.

Let the people who love you help you.

Believe in the possibility of tomorrow. 

Remember that every tomorrow brings you another chance, and that you will always deserve another chance.

Believe in one more day. 


If you think you just can't manage even one more day? Let people help you. Reach out. Reach out to family. Reach out to friends. Reach out to clergy or a doctor or a neighbor. You can also reach out here. But reach out. Because you really are worth another day ... you are worth so many more days, and we need you here. I promise. 

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