More: A public service announcement.

Do you ever wonder if you aren't living up to your full potential?

Or, if you're like me, do you ever wonder if you even have potential?

I have found that most of my life I have spent making myself smaller.

That I was so busy just trying to survive, that I forgot to live.

To breathe.

To be myself.

And not the supporting character self.

The LEAD.

The can-do, kick-ass, strong as hell hero.

I have spent my days apologizing and second guessing and politely denying that I may have some magic inside of me.

I see this very often with the men I work with.

They come into my office, unsure and avoiding eye contact, because they too have believed an untruth about themselves.

But let me tell you, when they discover who they are,  I mean who they really ARE, it's like light exploding in a room.

It's like nothing can stop them from outshining all the stars in the galaxy.

It's like witnessing a miracle, a brand new spark in the dark dark universe that shines and shines and says I'M HERE.

I want more for myself.

I want more for them.

I  want more for you.

Can you imagine what it would be like if we all believed that we had something spectacular to offer? If we lived like the world deserved us, like we knew that our lives held meaning and purpose and impact that no one else could offer?

Can I tell you that THAT is the truth we need to believe?

I  remember when I was young, I had an intense fear of "faking it".

Or, in other words, of being found out I was a fraud.

But did you know, that the most successful people are not the ones who necessarily have talent, but the ones who BELIEVE they have talent?

They ones who say yes and speak up more and recognize their own inner gifts?

Many of you know I work with men recovering from homelessness. And I have to tell you, that there is no special "catch all" to describe how a person comes to find themselves in this particular position. We have people of all shapes and sizes and of every talent. People who were wealthy and people who were poor and people with degrees and  people who can't read.

And they are all a little shook up by their situation.

They are all second guessing a bit their worth at this time in life.

But the ones who move forward?

Those are the ones who have told themselves over and over, "I can do this."

They have internalized the belief that they have something to offer, they have gotten back up and looked around and said "I am HERE and you need to know it!"

They have remained humble, remained open to help and have accepted it as it has come to them.

But they have not let their circumstances determine their worth, they have not let it darken the hope on the horizon.

They have looked around the room, held up their head, and said, "I deserve to be here".

And they do.

And so do you.

Do you know this?

Do you show this?

Do you let it guide your decisions and your steps and the way you see yourself and the opportunities in front of you?

If not, you need to reassess what exactly it is you are believing.

You need to check and see if the fraud you are so afraid of committing is actually the fraud itself--

that you aren't worthy.

aren't good enough.

aren't able.

How discontenting would it be to come to the end of your life and feel you did not use your gifts?

Your talents?

To realize you were acting all along, but it was the wrong role?

Be more.

Do not do us a disservice.

We need your light.

The public will thank you.

listen to your heart (attack).

I struggle with bad habits. Working with people who have all sorts of addictions has taught me that this is normal. I find it interesting that even when we know that something is bad for us, we do it anyway. There are days and even years where we hide in denial, but almost always, we figure it out. We get to the end of our rope and the beginning of our desperation and we say to ourselves--

I can't do this anymore.

And then we continue to do it anyway.

It's like our head knowledge and our heart knowledge don't link up. We are pulled in opposite directions, and the tension alone threatens to tear us apart. So what do we do when the habit is as painful as the abstinence, and the relapse is relieving?

We have to press on.

I think so often we believe the illusion that once we decide to stop doing something unhealthy, the gratification is instant. We see the people on TV or the social media account that gives us the blissful "after" picture--the one where the person is all smiles and better off and moving on and all the other independent stuff we associate with freedom.

But man oh man is the process excruciating.

Our heart feels like its being squeezed so hard it could burst.

Which is probably close to the truth.

I actually learned recently that a heart attack is caused by a lack of blood flow to the heart.

That in a healthy person, the blood headed to the heart has lots of oxygen, and essentially when an artery is full of gunk it prevents this oxygenated blood from getting into the heart.

And the heart freaks out.

It's in pain.

It needs that blood to survive.

For people with heart problems, they are warned of the issues associated with poor nutrition or lack of exercise.

But yet, so many ignore the signs and symptoms until it is much too late. Until their heart begins to literally die, muscle by muscle.

And I think, breaking bad habits is like that.

We know what is hurting us, but we continue in ignorance.

Because our heart knowledge can't catch up with our head knowledge.

And so we have a heart attack.

And it takes some time to heal.

And that healing does not come easily.

In fact, it may feel worse than before.

Change is like that sometimes. We want so badly to feel like we are doing the right thing, but sometimes it feels all wrong.

That's the trouble with bad habits.

We are so used to living a certain way that to change that way of living is unbearable.

Even if it's unhealthy.

Even if it's hurting us.

Even if we could be or could have or could gain so much more.

We settle in until our body can't take it anymore and our heart screams at us to STOP choosing that which is making us sick.

And finally, we listen. But though we make that initial step, the journey to recovery is long and not without many trials.

So we have to remember to be strong, to surround ourselves with hope and courage and memory.

We need to remind ourselves of where we came from and why we are doing this and how we are going to get there.

And we need to be able to withstand the pain of healing.

The digging the dirt out, pouring the peroxide in, searing kind of healing.

The kind that lets wounds heal without risk of infection or scarring.

Even when we want to stop the process.

Even when it seems that we cannot go a step further.

We must endure.

Because that healing will give us our life back.

It will leave us clean and whole and brand new.

It will lead us back to ourselves.

So in this time of healing, this time of all-consuming, everything-you-got breaking, continue to reach for heaven beyond the hell that is your habit.

While the gratification of relapsing may provide temporary relief--

it is terribly fleeting.

Your wound will heal.

And eventually, your heart will go back to it's normal beating.

It's normal breathing.

And all that fresh oxygen?

Well, there's nothing like the first breath of air after years of suffocating.

Or the beating of a heart after coming back from the dead.

diamonds and hope.

Hope can be a distinctly cruel thing. I remember a client once alluding to this idea--the feeling that hope is fleeting, that it is unreliable at best. When I look at people of great resilience, people who have overcome and failed and bounced back again, I am skeptical of their optimism. I am not inspired but rather wary of their seemingly persistent attitude of positivism in the midst of great distress.

I  am embittered by it.

I feel betrayed by hope most often. Reading the Psalms sometimes, I wonder at the bold acclamations that David made. He was so sure, so certain that God would rescue him from his troubles. That God would bring him out of the miry pit, keep his feet from slipping and his enemies forever at bay. I wonder at these verses.

From what I've seen of life, we are never too far from the edge of death and danger.

Where then, is hope to reside?

Do we keep our faith in the promises that are before us, even when they get dried up one by one?

I am learning that hope is not an outcome, but a process.

That there is a reason to joy, even when the smoke of uncertainty comes to suffocate it out.

And I do mean to joy--the act of being joyful, or the action of it.

I once asked a much different client (than the one  mentioned at the start of this blog) what it meant to him to read the Psalms in light of his current situation.

In light of losing everything.

In the certain shadow of death and--

the promise of difficulty.

This was a person who had nothing left, a person whose ground had been uprooted and turned and made barren through no fault of his own.

He was born into great privilege, safety in both family and provisions.

And  here, in the middle of his time, in the height of his career

he was brought low.

Very low.

Imagine as low as you can, and then go lower.

And yet--

he stills hopes.

Not without doubt, not without pain.

He struggles with the path that led him to where he is today.

He wonders at the raw senselessness of it.

But still, he hopes.

He says that though his circumstances are troubling, his faith has shown him that God is still good, still working in  the  middle of his wasteland.

That though God had not protected him in the manner in which he expected, that God was with him still.

That he believed beyond hope, past what he could see in front of him.

And this, this is what brought him inner peace.

Inner joy.

The  knowledge that though he could not see it now, a treasure was waiting for him.

And I don't mean necessarily in the literal sense--though I do believe that's possible as well.

I mean in the invisible sense.

That the things gained in the fire were worth the heat.

The strength.

The grace.

The hope.

So today, I am feeling joy beyond the hope.

Remembering that the fire will eventually burn out.

And maybe, just maybe

I'll find a diamond beyond the coals.

A treasure, priceless in value.

Indestructible.

And unable to be broken again.