Always Here | Tug-a-war – One of My First Poems on Endurance and Self-Worth

Introduction

Hey friends—

I looked at how many more posts I have left before this blog mission wraps up, and wow… it’s more than I thought. I’ve posted over 60 days in a row—maybe that’s no big deal for some, but for little ol’ me, it’s huge.

I did fall a bit behind after getting sick—more than six days off schedule—but I’m doing everything I can to get back on track. I still have plenty of pieces to go through, but I finally feel like I’m descending the mountain now. It’s been quite a journey. Behind the scenes, I’ve been taking notes and journaling thoughts about the whole process—I can’t wait to share all of that soon.

Now, on to this little write.

Tug-a-war is actually one of the oldest poems on this blog, first published back in 2018 and was reblogged again 2023 (somethings don’t change). I remember exactly where I was when I wrote it—mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. It came from a place of feeling stuck, stretched thin, and constantly pulled in too many directions. Nothing I did seemed to be working, but stopping wasn’t an option. I still had to wake up with an achy body, push through workouts, go to a job full of complicated people, and face lies and silence from those who claimed to love me. I did it anyway. I prayed, walked, worked, and hoped something would finally give.

The truth is, my life wasn’t terrible—it wasn’t bad at all. I had so many blessings, but things were slowly becoming unhealthy in ways I couldn’t ignore. Everyday I felt myself losing… myself.

This season of rereading has made me take a deeper look at myself. I don’t want to be a martyr. I might think I’m doing the right thing by showing up, keeping the peace, and taking care of everyone—but sometimes, it hurts more than it helps. It leaves me ignored, used up, and forgotten, like I don’t matter until I’m needed again. And what am I teaching others about how to treat me?

This poem reminded me how reliable I can be—and while that’s something I’m proud of, it’s also something I need to reflect on. I’ve realized I have some work to do too. Sometimes I think I’m being helpful and loving, but in reality, I’m enabling patterns that wear me down.

I’m like your favorite old T-shirt—torn and worn thin, but the first thing you want when you’re hurting and need to crash out. Forgotten until it’s needed… and when it’s missing, suddenly it’s the most important thing in the world.

So, here I am. Still here. Still writing. Still waiting for the next crash sess.

Skelly-

A person sitting on a couch, wearing a cozy knitted sweater and holding a mug, with their legs curled up and one foot bare.

Tug-a-war

Push the boulder

Climb the mountain

Hide in the box

Beat the wall

Close it tight

Lock the door

Squeeze it tight

Hold your breath

Search through the Valley

Lost in the dark

Hear the small voice

Carry the weight

Bury it deep

Play the part

Secure the room

Plant your feet

Take a step

Break the bricks

Stack the stones

Hear my chest beat

Lost my way

Find a light

See a dream

Pull it up

Hold a hand

Take the cup

Drink it up

Say a prayer

Open the door

Leave the room

Breathe it in

Feel the heart

Set it free

Here it goes

Oh, Lord

Protect me

Watch over us

Guide the way

Set it straight

Make it smooth

Photo by Stephen Leonardi on Pexels.com

If this piece stirred something in you—share it. Leave a comment. Let me know if you’ve ever felt like the worn-out T-shirt—always there, often overlooked, but deeply needed. 💬

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SK-