Make Room To Say It Out Loud

This thought would not leave me alone. It was one of the most tenacious and constant uses of brain space for what felt like days on end. It was the weed growing through the crack in the concrete. This one thought found ways to interject its presence into my morning meditations and journaling, my afternoon ice coffee walks with my dog Hudson, and even into the unofficial final check list before bedtime.

It had gone from being persistent to being a pest.

So I said the idea out loud, and I heard what the words sounded like when they came out of my mouth.

And they were believable.

On my weakest day and, if I was feeling beat down by life, they were incredibly believable.

But then there was a rumbling and a holy anger that surged through my soul, and something to the effect of "Not Today Satan" came out of my mouth.