Lemon-aid

I’m gifted.

Life gave me gifts.

I know that now.

But I spent too long doubting that I am.

That I can.

That I have what I have.

And if I’m being honest—

I let the doubt win sometimes.

I hid.

I downplayed.

I wasted time.

What’s the point of gifts

if you don’t use them?

If you don’t share them?

That’s not humility.

That’s fear.

And fear doesn’t serve anyone—

not me,

not the people who could use what I had.

So maybe it’s not just about life giving me lemons.

Maybe it’s about what I do with them.

Not for applause.

Not for proof.

But because they were given to me.

Not to hold.

Not to hoard.

But to help.

To serve.

To heal, even—if that’s what they’re meant for.

Maybe the gift was never about me.

But through me.

And maybe the waste wasn’t in not using them,

but in thinking they had to be perfect first.

Authors Notes: This piece is a reflection on the idiom “when life gives you lemons,” but with a shift in purpose. I’ve spent a lot of time making lemonade—turning my struggles into something palatable—but I often kept it to myself. I drank it alone. And while it may have temporarily helped me cope, it never helped me grow.