footnotes

Some days it feels like you’re chipping away at a forty-foot brick wall with a plastic teaspoon. Other days a whole chunk of that wall collapses like a piece of stale gingerbread and you’re left gobsmacked at the amount of daylight you've let in, with your own two hands.
I am staring at a broad expanse of daylight. There is now more daylight in my immediate vicinity than there is wall. Mainly the wall is at my feet, where I can’t really see it but where it can easily trip me over if I spend too much time with my head up, staring at the sky.
I guess today I tripped. I fell. On my face. But I got back up with the help of someone who I really needed, and now I am even more determined to step over that wall and breathe in that daylight and stare at the sky and open myself up to new possibilities. I am stronger right now than I have ever been.