if you have a lot of issues with worrying about your own morality like I do, I truly recommend this poem by Mary Oliver. It is such a great reminder for me. “Wild Geese” You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting - over and over announcing your place in the family of things.

A reflection I never saw myself being able to write✨ One year ago today, I was spiraling for a second time because I wasn’t sure what was happening to me, again. Getting through it once was doable but twice? I truly thought I was losing my mind. OCD wasn’t just a shadow in the background — it was a loud, relentless voice narrating fear, doubt, and compulsions into every corner of my life. I couldn’t trust my thoughts, couldn’t rest in silence. I was questioning everything. I was exhausted coasting through the motions of life trying to survive every minute of every day. But today — I’m here. Still imperfect, still human, but finally free in a way I didn’t think was possible. I got here by learning the hardest, most empowering lesson of my life: I had to stop depending on anyone else to pull me out. I had to stop outsourcing my safety, my certainty, my worth. I had to become the person I could rely on — not in a cold, lonely way, but in the most solid, liberating way possible. You see, healing didn’t come when others gave me reassurance — it came when I stopped needing it. When I realized no one could fight the war in my mind for me. It had to be me. Not because others didn’t care — but because I had to be the one to stop running from fear. I had to choose courage over comfort, again and again. And boy was that rough. But I did. Through therapy, I retrained my brain. (Shout out to Casey Knight🙏🏼) I stopped dancing to OCD’s obsessive rhythm and started rewriting the song. And yeah — the beat dropped a few times. But I kept moving forward. Slowly, I started turning my mind into a place I wanted to live in. I made it beautiful. Not by forcing positive thoughts, but by planting seeds of truth: 🌱 Not every thought deserves attention. 🌱 Discomfort doesn’t mean danger. 🌱 Uncertainty is not the enemy — it’s just part of being alive. I started treating my mind like a garden instead of a battlefield. I let go of perfection and started watering what was real, what was kind, what was mine. And let’s be honest — there were still a few weeds. (Hello, OCD — always trying to “check in.” ) Because healing isn’t linear, I still have days where I feel back to square one, but it’s a day, not a week, month, or another year of surrendering. But here’s the “punny” truth: OCD tried to check me, but I checked myself — with compassion, courage, & a whole lot of practice. To anyone still caught in the spiral — I want you to know: you are not broken. You don’t need to wait for someone else to save you. No else will. The strength you’re looking for? It’s already in you. It might be buried under fear, doubt, and rumination, but it’s there — patient and unbreakable. Start small. Start scared. Just start. Because when you stop relying on the world to reassure you, and start trusting your own ability to face uncertainty, you get something even better than comfort — you get freedom, resilience, power & SO much more. You don’t have to control every thought/urge to have a beautiful mind. You just have to stop believing every thought/urge is the truth. You don’t have to be fearless , you just have to act in spite of fear. You are not crazy You are not a monster You are not evil You are human You are capable And if OCD ever tries to take over again, just smile and say, “Nice try. But not today.” — Someone who came back to life, one brave thought at a time 🧡

I have a 56 year old brother who struggles with substance abuse, homelessness and mental health. I began to notice a patter that when his life would be thrown into the maelstrom, it would often trigger my OCD and put me into thought spirals and feelings of depression. Well, I’m here again. My brother is in a South Florida drug rehabilitation clinic and of course I’ve back slidden into an OCD spike. My brother is at the end of his rope, and hinted to not having the strength to do this anymore, so I just shared this metaphorical story with him just now. I think it was written by a Christian author years ago, and their name escapes me. When I texted him the story, it occurred to me that there is relevance here for my fellow OCD sufferers. I’m am not a holy roller by any means, in fact I’m a lapsed Catholic who often struggles with faith and its meaning. The Lizard on the Bow: A Story About Holding On There was a man who had a tradition of taking a quiet rowboat ride early each morning. He’d walk down to the lake, uncover his old canoe, and slowly push off from the dock. It was his time to clear his head and connect with God. One morning, he set off like usual. The lake was calm, and the air was still. As he rowed out to the center, dark clouds began to gather. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and soon the rain began to fall. The peaceful morning was quickly turning into a storm. Deciding it was best to turn around, the man began rowing back toward the safety of the shore. That’s when he noticed something—on the bow of the boat, just ahead of him, sat a small lizard. It must’ve jumped on when he launched from the dock. Now it was stuck—surrounded by water, perched on an unfamiliar surface, and the storm was closing in. The lizard started to panic. It darted back and forth, unsure what to do, its tiny body trembling with fear. The man, watching, began talking to it—softly, calmly: “Hang in there, little guy. We’re heading back. Just hold on—we’re only 500 yards from shore.” But the wind picked up. The waves slapped against the sides of the boat. The lizard became frantic, searching for an escape—darting left, then right, then freezing, overwhelmed. “Almost there,” the man said again, “Just 200 yards to go. You’re doing fine. Stay with me.” But the storm didn’t let up. The lizard, confused and terrified, couldn’t see what the man saw—the steady progress toward safety. All it knew was fear. Despite the man’s reassurance, it made a desperate leap into the water. It didn’t realize that shore was just ahead. That rescue was almost here. That if it had just waited… just held on… it would’ve made it. The Message This story isn’t really about a lizard. It’s about us—about how, in the middle of life’s storms, fear and pain can cloud our judgment. When everything feels too dark or too broken, we start looking for an escape. Even if it’s one we can’t undo. But God is in the boat. And He sees what we can’t. He knows how close the shoreline is—even when we don’t. Sometimes, all we’re being asked to do is hold on a little longer. Not to fix everything. Not to be perfect. Just… hold on.

What are mistakes? I have a set of values. My speech or actions contradict those values. I feel deep remorse and disappointment in myself afterwards. Logically, it would make sense to truly feel the remorse, let it impact you, and say, “I wish I didn’t do that. I wish it didn’t happen. Not because it would relieve the guilt I feel now, but because it was genuinely wrong.” Where people go wrong is forgetting the “I”. After stating this, they’ll go back to feeling that remorse, and beat themselves up because they identify with the version of them that’s actively making the mistake. But the very fact those sentences exist from the mouth of that person shows that who they are in this moment isn’t who they were then. The “I” in the statement. Who is that referring to? Certainly not the person before the mistake. If it was, the mistake wouldn’t have happened. So, if you’re now someone else, that wouldn’t do those things, why are you putting yourself down as if you’re still that person? Are those “I”s in the statement nobody? But maybe you knew it was wrong when you were doing it! If you knew the extent to which it was actually harmful, you still wouldn’t have done it. You had the knowledge of it being wrong, but there wasn’t emotion involved. Remorse associates feeling with that knowledge. You begin to feel empathetic for whoever you harmed. This empathy, when felt healthily, and not ignored- is a tool. It’s so that next time you’re in that situation you can feel the effect you’ll have on the person and not do it. Empathy creates the opportunity for you to learn and become more emotionally intelligent, sensitive, and moral. I’ve used this tool all wrong. Feeling bad for what you’ve done is an opportunity. It allows you to grow and become more empathetic. It allows you to change who you are by saying “I…” Imagine if you didn’t feel remorse. How would you ever learn? That would be worse. Thank God for remorse Remorse should be used wisely. To allow for genuine moments of growth, to come back when placed in the same situation again. When the lesson is learnt, remorse has served its purpose. Any further berating serves no positive cause. It can only be used as an excuse. “I’m so bad, there’s no hope for me to be good”. I learnt this idea from Rabbi Akiva T. Maybe there’s a chemical imbalance which causes you to ruminate on your mistakes. Whatever it is, guilt is not meant to be a punishment. It’s a tool. When you regret what you’ve done, you literally become a different person. The you that understands what you understand now simply wouldn’t have made that mistake. Tests are your desire to do something v.s your knowledge that it’s wrong. Remorse allows you to empower the latter for future situations. Sometimes we cling to self deprecation. That's all we know. You can’t just rip it out. It’ll show itself from time to time. Just know that’s a force of habit. Your true essence is still good. The truths are still true. You’re. Not. A. Bad. Person. All I know is that the “me” right now does the right thing. Don’t let remorse hold you back from changing the world. Use it like the tool it is, then let it go. If it comes back, wave at it. Smile. “You helped me, you’ve served your purpose.” Don’t let the growth go unused. Don’t let it be for nothing. Use the new, sensitive you to bring good to those around you. Don’t let the remorse hold back the good that came from it. You’re free. You’re weightless. You can change the world for the better. So do it :)