October 12 — Garbage Day
“If I don’t look at my mistakes, I start to think I don’t have any.” — Chuck C.
Most of my trouble doesn’t come from one big blow-up. It comes from the slow pileup — a quiet resentment I didn’t say out loud because I couldn’t see where I made a mistake, a truth I kind of rounded off, a feeling I told myself I’d deal with “later.” That stuff stacks up the same way trash does. At first it’s just a bag in the corner. Then it’s the whole kitchen. And one day I wake up wondering why my spirit feels cramped and sour.
God didn’t leave. I just stopped taking anything out.
There’s something oddly gentle about keeping a short spiritual memory. I don’t have to excavate my childhood or write a confession novel — I just have to notice what’s starting to stink and not pretend it’s furniture. A little honesty, a small cleanup, and the air changes again. That’s usually all it takes.
What’s one piece of emotional trash you’ve been stepping over lately instead of picking up?
