Beginning to Rising Strong

Beginning to Rising Strong

When life knocks you down sometimes finding the things you love again can be the hardest. Over the past year my relationship to my mental, physical, and emotional self fluctuated immensely . I’ve half ass devoted time to self-care to see little result. A large part of this self care being a hit or miss has been the lack of accountability from myself and others. I want this to change.

Yesterday I picked up a copy of Brené Brown’s book Rising Strong. I’ve only read 50 pages so far and already I can tell this book will change me for the better. Rising strong is that ugly moment after life has knocked you down. The moment no one likes to speak about. The part in between the deepest low and the success story. The part that is filled with coming face to face with who we are and forgiving ourselves for the things we have done.

November is National Novel Writing Month (Nanowrimio). During this month I will be posting a series of blog posts of how I’m rising strong — how I’m putting my life back together and the things I’ve done to overcome  my biggest obstacles in life. I will also be documenting my progress daily on Instagram (@AdamTLyon) using the hashtag #RisingStrong.

I hope to become a better friend, feminist, activist, and a better version of myself. A version that is vulnerable, excited, and deeply grateful for everything I’m blessed with.

Last year when I was in the middle of the worst depression I’ve ever experienced, I ended up killing a cactus (I still don’t quite understand how it happened). I’d like to think it was the bad vibes I emitted, or the lack of sunlight both it and myself received. I’ve attached a photo of a flower to remind myself that growth is possible. It’s never to late to start over, and it’s time to start Rising Strong.

Little Flower, Big Shadow

Thank you



Papercuts and Heartbreaks

I am replacing my addiction to heartbreak with an addiction to books.

Every page is one page closer to moving on.

I dive into theory, novels, and textbooks with an aspiration of finding healing.

I’m developing a new articulated speech pattern, while your name is slowly being removed from my vocabulary.

These books fill voids.

Papercuts are now more regular than missing you.