Monday

 speaking to my higher self

Today, I see you.

I see what you’ve carried for more than a decade.

The studying. The running. The yoga. The silence.

The Bible, the Quran, the miles, the nights without sleep.

The stroke. The accident. The homelessness.

And still—you did not numb yourself. You did not abandon yourself.

Today, my body finally spoke louder than my will.

Not as punishment.

Not as failure.

But as truth.

I have been at war for a long time—

against time, against expectations, against shame, against the idea that worth is measured by money or titles.

And today, the war paused.

I realize now that discipline saved my life,

but rest is what will allow it to continue.

Yoga saved me. Meditation held me together.

And even when nothing made sense—religion, identity, career—

I stayed with the breath. I stayed with the body. I stayed with God, even when God felt like silence.

I forgive myself for not fitting into the world’s timeline.

I forgive myself for outgrowing people, places, and versions of myself.

I forgive myself for choosing truth over comfort, even when it cost me everything.

I see now that my journey was never meant to look like anyone else’s.

Like Joseph, I wandered without knowing the ending,

trusting that meaning would reveal itself later.

Today, I choose gratitude over shame.

I choose rest over proving.

I choose presence over comparison.

If I step back from those who measured me by material things, it is not bitterness—it is clarity.

I honor the path that kept me sober, awake, and alive.

I trust that strength is returning, not through force, but through listening.

I trust that this pause is not the end, but the beginning of a quieter, wiser chapter.

Today is a beautiful day.

I am still here.

I am grateful.

I am proud of myself.

Yoruba Yogi.