I woke up this morning ready to begin a new week, a new start. Last week had been rough due to a series of consecutive unfortunate events, and I said hello to the weekend by feeling pretty broken on Friday. My brokenness comes from a build-up of external events that have happened to me over the past few months, ones I am still trying to recover from with not so much luck so far.
I woke up this morning and prepared for a cycling class. I woke up not feeling great, I got to the cycling class not feeling great, and finished it feeling slightly better. Exercise can really do miracles for your mood, some days more than others. But there was one other thing.
As the group finished up the cycling class, the instructor shared a story about her mother visiting the past week. Things didn’t go well during the visit, and on top of that she has a young daughter who is causing hell, as well.
“I woke up this morning feeling broken,” the instructor said, “But you all and this class help. We pick ourselves back up, that’s what we do.”
For that brief moment, hearing this stranger’s story, I felt better about the world. I felt better than I’ve felt in the whole past week. I walked out of class with a tiny bit of hope to have a good day.
I’m not at all saying that hearing about the despair of others makes me feel better. It doesn’t. I wish the best for those around me with good hearts and intentions. But for a moment, hearing that I’m not the only broken one, lifted me up. It’s good to know you’re never alone.
It’s good to know others feel the same as you, and they pick themselves up. If others can pick themselves up, you sure as hell can do that as well. It’s just a matter of time.