This morning, while on my morning hike, this came to me. The door was never wide open. It was only left slightly ajar…
It happened in a moment— anger, grief, vulnerability at its peak.
That’s when the “visitor” walked in.
At first, you barely noticed. Its presence was subtle… quiet.
But over time, something shifted. Your energy felt different. Anxiety began to rise.
The visitor started taking up space in your home… your temple.
It rearranged the furniture. Changed the colors of the walls.
What was once peaceful—like ocean blues and white sand— became gray, heavy… almost accusing.
Somewhere along the way, you stopped recognizing yourself.
You handed over control.
Friends and family began to feel distant. Not because they stopped caring— but because they no longer recognized who you had become.
And truthfully… Neither did you.
You stopped looking in the mirror.
So who are these visitors?
Their names are regret… hurt… pain… unforgiveness.
They sit at your table and feast with you. They lie beside you at night. They follow you everywhere.
You permitted them to stay.
And then… depression moved in— to seal the deal.
Now it feels like you no longer exist. Like they own you.
But here’s the truth: It didn’t happen all at once.
And it doesn’t have to stay this way.
There was always a moment when you could have opened the door and asked them to leave.
Instead, you became familiar with them.
But now… you see it.
Your home feels crowded. You can’t breathe.
And something inside you is saying: This has to change.
So where do you begin?
Start with forgiving yourself.
Be gentle. Be patient. Be loving—with you.
Take the lessons… not the weight.
Release what no longer serves you. And begin again—with grace and acceptance.
Transformation is not easy. But it is possible.
And it starts with one decision:
Close the door.
Permanently.
Those visitors were never meant to live in your home.
