Lately, I’ve been trying to dig myself out of one of the deeper ruts I’ve been in over the course of my life — to be candid, I’m struggling with my coursework, my exams, my relationships, my writing and myself in general.

If I’m being really honest, I’ll admit that it’s the first time in my life where I feel I don’t have myself figured out anymore. Nevertheless, as is my coping mechanism for all things good and bad in life, I’ve been listening to lots and lots of music.

In particular, a certain song entitled “Perfume and Milk” from the new Florence + the Machine album “Everybody Scream” has really helped me to find some perspective. The song itself is about adjusting as the seasons of the earth and the seasons of life shift, though one line has really captured my attention:

“Miracles are often inconvenient, and a prayer is a spell.”

I’ll never forget hearing that poignant line for the first time. It was a reminder to me of the power of words, of power beyond the material and tangible — a reminder that we must make our own realities, that miracles are rare and not often exactly as we wish for.

As a Catholic, I’ve always believed myself to have a physical and spiritual nature, and along with these, certain gifts and abilities imbued by God to better myself and the world. Regardless of your religious or personal beliefs, however, I think most people subscribe to the belief that we, as humans, are both physical and spiritual in nature.

The culture of the last decade certainly indicates a belief in the inherent spirituality of humanity — belief in manifestation, in willing things into existence, in the idea that words have power. While I personally do not directly subscribe to the belief in the power of manifestation, I do believe that to ignore the power of the tongue is folly, and I think my generation is onto something here.

Strangely enough, however, for every post on social media I see discussing manifesting wealth or health, success or a prosperous year or any advancement in life, for that matter, I see just as many (if not more) posts and comments about people feeling powerless to change. It is quite the strange dichotomy that we exist in a culture that believes in such power to command our personal realities and yet also is so quick to speak weakness, despair and death over our lives. I must confess I’ve subconsciously been doing the latter as of late.

In a recent conversation with a close friend of mine, I confessed to feeling as though the suffering I’ve been dealing with is much bigger than myself. I recognize now that it was wrong of me to speak such a thing over my life. There is a very thin line between acknowledging a struggle and allowing it to rule over your being, and it has been easy for me to allow myself to fall into a victim mentality lately. Even worse, I’m not the only one — I’ve seen this trend among close friends and random strangers online alike.

Finding myself feeling sad, lonely, insufficient or angry is not wrong and does not make me weak. I can feel these feelings without worshiping them. I can feel these feelings without letting them control who I am. I get to decide who I am, how I react to my feelings, and who I am in the world at large — but I can only do this by acknowledging where the power lies in the dynamic between feeling and being. Where the control lies.

As I’ve alternated between my own small gains and losses in the last month, I am slowly learning just how little is necessary to change my mindset, even if only temporarily. Even though it sometimes feels like it, I know I’m not going to feel like this forever, that these feelings are not who I am.

I hope you know that whatever you are struggling with does not define you. What you think and what you say, what you affirm and what you name, what you give power to makes all of the difference in what actually defines you. So, when you feel overwhelmed by the weight of the world, don’t let it take control of you. Instead, speak life over yourself. Here, I’ll start:

I am worthy of the breath in my lungs and the life that I’ve been given — I deserve to be here.