The human spirit is defined in Wikipedia as a component of human philosophy, psychology, art, and knowledge – the spiritual or mental part of humanity. The human spirit includes our intellect, emotions, fears, passions, and creativity.

No matter how many times I am knocked down, I get up. No matter the weight of the knock down punch, I get up. Be it a punch to the stomach where my gut instinct is wounded or a strike to the heart where all my feelings are blasted or even a left to the head destroying my beliefs, I get up.

How is this possible? A heart blasted into a million miniscule pieces recovers and very slowly dares to reach out to love again. A gut wrenching wound recedes, loses its strength to cripple and I trust my intuition once again. The thoughts racing through my mind are the hardest to turn around. I’ve noticed that sometimes no matter how much effort I use, no matter how many clever authors I read for inspiration the thoughts continue in a downward spiral whispering in my ear that those clever writers may know lots but it doesn’t apply to me. All that effort is for naught, the whispering voice tells me as it won’t change anything for this is it. And so I continue my inner struggle. What is it that makes me see a little speck of light in that canvas of darkness, despite all the whispering of that voice so black and so very convincing? I get up. My step becomes just a tad lighter. My outer voice a tiny bit more gay with a lilt even. I get up. My deepest held conviction, my innermost belief in myself, in my spirit, in my worth, in my soul will not be broken. It speaks to me so softly so as not to be trampled but just enough for the subconscious mind to hear and it listens. I get up. My humour and optimisim return albeit cautiously, treading carefully into the whirlwind of thoughts and creates a small storm. A smile appears, almost reaching the eyes and a small giggle springs forth indicating a turn in the right direction.

The wounds are healing and the spirit gathering strength. I get up. The pattern of life continues winding down the well worn path but something is different. The rocks in the path are not so jagged and the steepness is not so relentless. The path seeks the less toiling way and the travelling is easier, almost pleasant. The maelstrom of thoughts are less argumentative and there is peace within.  Days, weeks, months even years may have passed during this period of immense inner conflict.

I am changed. I am stronger. I am wiser. I am at ease in my skin once again. A belief is born that it will not happen again – but it will. The difference next time will be that, from the past I know I have what it takes to make it through. I know. I got up.