The rescue I didn’t know I needed.
POT CHRONICLES™ 🎙️ — ENTRY: “THE SUNDAY RESCUE I DIDN’T KNOW I NEEDED” 🙏🏽😭🔥🚽✨ So boom — THIS MORNING? Church snatched my soul and re-glued it. 😭🙏🏽🔥 Because lately… I’ve been DOWN on myself. Like spiritually, emotionally, financially DOWN bad. Trying to pay everything. Trying to get out my daddy’s house. Trying to find a car. Trying to find a house. Trying to pay child support. Trying to breathe. Trying not to break. Trying not to go backwards. And the whole time, I’ve been Santa Claus for everybody but ME. 🎅🏽💀 Giving, giving, giving… with nothing left in the tank. I’ve been fighting so hard not to fall back into old ways — but when you’re broke? stuck? scared? alone? Survival mode be whispering like, “Hey stranger… long time no see.” And I’ve slipped. I’ve made choices that hurt ME. And it makes me feel worthless — not because I AM — but because my circumstances been beating my self-worth like we in a UFC match. I’m tired of living life where my situations push me into betraying my OWN morals, my OWN boundaries, my OWN standards. Just to get by. Just to get something handled. Just to stop drowning. That shit is exhausting. But then… the prayer at the end of service: “Jesus, I am a sinner in need of rescue. I trust your blood to cover me. I will follow and obey you forever. Amen.” Twin… I broke. 😭🔥🙏🏽 Because right now? I AM in need of rescue — not from life, not from people — from MYSELF. From the patterns that hurt me. From the habits that drain me. From the versions of me that survival mode keeps reviving. I spend the block with the wrong people. I do things I regret. I lower myself just to get through the week. And I’m TIRED. TIRED of survival mode being my whole personality. Survival mode is just self-harm disguised as hustle. So today, I prayed: God, rescue me from ME. From the habits that break me. From the choices that dim me. From the survival mode that keeps me small. I don’t want to go back to that place. I want to grow FOR REAL this time. 🙏🏽💛