One Hard Thing a Day
One hard thing a day can open the heart and reorganize old pain. May these words—read or listened to—help your own light rise again.
It’s not just our effort that carries us through life. We also have to do the hard things—the ones that strengthen our will to live, and our optimism to keep going.
People ask me every day, “How can you sit and listen to the painful things people go through—over and over again?”
I tell them, “Life’s not easy—and therapy is life.”
If I loved hearing horror stories, if I delighted in the worst of human experience, that would make me strange or sadistic.
The truth is, I cringe. My heart sinks every time someone tells me they were abused or left alone with their pain as a child. That’s just the tip of the iceberg—and I’m not going to sit back and watch the ship sink—no matter how big it is.
That’s why I wake up every day. What I do never gets old, even though my body reminds me I’m not getting any younger. Every time my heart cracks open, I feel myself weep inside—and in that moment, I know I’m alive... and whole.
With that growth comes a quiet, steady strength—a truth: my heart can hold my own pain and suffering alongside the pain and suffering of others—no comparisons needed.
I have a big heart—one that keeps growing. And that feels joyful.
It’s a light that was once invisible, now glowing—my Core Self. It absorbs the darkness a little at a time, the light growing brighter with every breath—and with each hard thing I face.
So, if it feels difficult to read my writing, that’s a good thing. Don’t stop. Ask yourself why, instead. Then you’ll know more about why it’s important to continue, even if you need to rest from time to time, so you can remember—and return to your Core Self and this work.
And if it helps, close your eyes and imagine. Listen to me read, or read along with me—separately or together. Trust yourself. You’ll know what’s best.
The more you do it, the easier it gets to know your own story—and to listen to the stories of others.
I’m not just talking about the content. What lives between the lines matters most—the meaning. That’s what guides you, or helps you know what‘s blocking the path. And that goes deeper—stretching through the pain.
Wake up and talk to someone close to heart, or if needed, find someone who can help you navigate rough terrain and keep you from getting lost in a rabbit hole of fear or despair.
The intent is not to repeat old trauma, but to reorganize it in a way that helps you heal and grow. The light of invisibility will grow inside of you—quietly at first—and, as it steadies, it will begin to shine into the world around you. We all need that light right now.
You are both the recipient and messenger of love—a love we’re all capable of giving and receiving—connecting us to ourselves and others through time.
Let that light soak in a bit. Take it one day at a time… one hard thing a day.
Try it. You might dislike it. That’s not the time to quit. That may be the surest sign that you’re getting closer to your destination—one that’s always a new beginning.
The hope is always there and will continue to shine.
How exciting is that? Seriously, imagine what that might look like, and you’ll already be halfway there.
Now, you’re driving—with the light of your Core Self at the wheel, feeling the power rise inside you, knowing the person you were always meant to be.
Life isn’t supposed to be easy. Don’t avoid it. Don’t be a victim—be an active participant. It takes a while to clean up a messy house. Take it one room at a time—don’t just hide the clutter or shift the mess around.
Just do it—one hard thing a day. A painful truth is always a blessing, a real Thanksgiving—a coming home to your Core Self.
As you take in my words, glance up at the cat in the photo—or the soft ones in your life. Then you’ll know more about why it’s time to awaken—why it’s time to do this work… this work of hearts.
Feel my light along the way as I hold yours in my heart—one hard thing a day. One quiet act of courage.
Gratitude: In appreciation of those who have shared their light and sweetness with me over the years—and received mine.
Confidentiality note: Any resemblance to your own life is both coincidental and universal—reminding us that our stories echo one another in the shared fabric of human experience.
Comments or questions? Email me at mcecilvt@aol.com. Feel free to share these words—and this blog—with anyone you hold close or long to be held.
Dr. Cecil is a licensed psychologist, certified AEDP supervisor, approved EMDR consultant, and senior CSRT consultant. He specializes in treating complex relational, developmental, and transgenerational trauma, bringing therapy to life through heartfelt stories and images of connection and healing that emerge from the light of invisibility.