12/29/2025
I mentioned to a friend once that I felt like I was at the end of my rope and a mouse was chewing on it.
It was this feeling of being so overwhelmed, having no grasp and slipping, but even if I held on as long and as tight as possible that something else was going to cause the snap.
The rope was old, frayed and riddled with knots from trying to get a better grip and hold it together, but it was all I had and knew. I was petrified that if I let go or it finally gave way I would fall into an endless void I couldn’t escape or crash so hard once I hit the bottom that I’d never be able to get back up. I couldn’t see past the fog at my feet and the uncertainty ate away at me.
Eventually the rope snapped, it was just time. The fall was shorter than I ever expected. I was unsteady, stumbled a bit, but I landed on my feet. All the time I spent looking up and watching the rope decay had skewed the perspective of how far away from the ground I really was.
I had forgotten how strong and determined I could be and I couldn’t see how badly I needed to let go of something that no longer supported the weight of my existence.
I will always have fibers of the rope embedded in my hands, but I can look back at them now of lesson I carry with me always.
