I’m sitting here trying to write this blog, and my cat is directly in front of my screen—blocking everything.
And as I try to see around this cute, fat cat, it hits me:
This is my life.
That cat blocking my view?
That’s been my control.
My need to be accepted.
My need to manage everything.
I can see around him… just like I’ve been able to see around the restrictions I’ve placed on my life.
But when I get to a certain point?
His little body takes up the whole screen.
And that’s exactly what happened in my life.
I got to a point where the survival mechanisms I built—the things that once helped me function—no longer served me.
And I didn’t know how to let them go.
Right now, I’m learning to live in verse 36…
and not letting those survival mechanisms take their authority back.
And I won’t lie—it’s been hard.
These last couple of weeks, I’ve really been in it.
But I can also see how much I’ve changed.
Because the things that used to make me lose it?
They don’t hit the same anymore.
I’m not letting those old patterns control how I react—or don’t react.
Before, when my fat, furry friend Tiny would sit in front of my monitor, I’d shoo him away.
Now?
I pick him up.
I cradle him.
I love on him.
I give him enough kisses to last about 30 minutes… until he comes right back.
And what I realized is this:
He doesn’t need to be pushed away.
He needs attention.
Positive attention.
Tiny was abused before he came into my life.
When I first got him, he was honestly kind of an asshole.
But he had to be.
That’s how he survived.
And somewhere along the way, I realized:
His nervous system was just as messed up as mine.
So together, we started healing.
Learning how to live without operating from survival mode.
Learning how to not be total assholes.
And in the middle of all that…
My cat taught me something I didn’t even know I needed:
How to give myself grace.
Because it’s not just him that needed positive attention.
It’s me too.
And not from everyone else.
From myself.
My whole life has been go, go, go…
do, do, do…
Always planning the next thing.
Always trying to outdo what I just did.
I don’t even know if I ever actually enjoyed anything.
But right now?
I’m learning how to live differently.
I’m learning how to just be.
To exist in the space God has me in.
Some days I do really well.
Some days I lose my shit.
But every day:
I’m trying.
I’m learning.
I’m letting myself just be.
And I think this is the first time in my life I’ve ever done that.
Yesterday, I caught myself just staring out the window.
At least 15 minutes went by.
And I had this moment like…
“Wait… I can just do this?”
The rain was falling.
The air was cool.
And I was just there.
Not fixing anything.
Not planning anything.
Just being.
And it was beautiful.
Living in verse 36 has shown me this:
I don’t always have to act.
I don’t always have to react.
I can let things go.
I can say no—and no is a complete sentence.
I am not responsible for other people’s feelings.
I am not responsible for how they respond to me.
I am not responsible for others, period.
I am responsible for two:
Me…
and my fat, furry friend—
Tiny Terrorist.