In times of strife or stubble, much like I am going through right now, I bring to mind Max Ehrmann’s poem Desiderata. It is a few years shy of a century old poem, but resonates so strongly with me in so many ways.
One line in particular strikes a chord with me to the point of wanting to get it tattooed onto me:
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.
That last line in particular helps me. “You have a right to be here.” I don’t always feel that I do. I don’t often feel like I wish to be here. It’s a daily battle I wage against my own brain gremlins.
I hate that I’m suicidal. It makes me feel like I’m weak or something.
One of my coworkers was out today. It wasn’t said why, so I hope she’s okay. Otherwise, work was full of studying, trainings, and web-held meetings. I’ve taken over thirty pages of notes for the new job.