Lines in the Sand

I was very inconsistent back in the day—a nice way of putting it.

Up. Down. In. Out. Angry. Confused.

Not the person I needed to be.

I let people down. Especially myself. And life, being the wheel it is, brought a lot of that negativity back to roost with me.

I eventually came to a point:

Of owning.
Of doing my best to change.
Of validating.
Of apologizing.
Of admitting.

Of trying to make things right with everything I had.

And I finally realized that some things simply couldn’t be fixed. Some things won’t ever be the same. Some things must be released.

Because life IS that wheel, and what goes around comes around and will spin you like a top even when you think you are standing still. Until you let go.

They may love us.
Or maybe tolerate us.
And sometimes deal with us.

But they no longer celebrate or prioritize us. Believe wholeheartedly in us—backed by actions, not words. They’ve not healed, forgiven, or feel connected to us in how we feel towards them.

They may be family, friends, co-workers, bosses, clients, lovers, or spouses.


Inconsistent treatment is the hardest to get away from—you are always waiting for the love to manifest. And it will here and there. Just enough to fill you with hope and possibility and quench a weary, thirsty heart.


But that “love” has a lot of conditions. Lots of rules. Lots of boundaries. Lots of time between what looks and feels like meaningful engagement. Lots of little conscious or unconscious nips.

And it’s so hard and ironic and sad to disengage back—if only emotionally and not physically. To admit that it’s an off-synced dance choreographed with missteps and poor footing. We want to linger and loiter like emotional vagrants—keeping the door cracked. We want to believe. Invest. Be kindred. And place value on the longevity of it all.

But no amount of yesterday’s can make up for the losses and wounds of the present. We evolve the best we can, as do the ones we love. And it may be for a season, or a lifetime, that trajectories don’t align, because that’s what paths do—move us.

And one day, we wake, acutely aware that either by our hand or mere fate, our emotional scaffolding is gone. The construction zone is haphazardly open to the world, with nothing to climb or cling to. And we sit for a spell to let the illusion of it all sink in.

And we finally realize that WE are all we have. And while the whole of you may feel shattered—the pieces of you remain.

There is a small part that whispers, “I know your truth—and I still love you.”

And that part—that small, still part of you slowly gathers all the broken pieces and places them gently to the side, so you don’t get cut and bleed anymore.

Love that part.

Honor that part.

It will stand side by side with you as the tide rolls up and washes away the line in the sand—a gentle reminder that there IS nothing left to cross.

And together, you can face tomorrow.