I'm writing this just on the other side of the hardest 72 hours of my life, which came as the cherry on top of the hardest 8-ish weeks of my life. But the real truth is that this year has been difficult from the moment it started.
I welcomed 2018 full of anxiety and fear. I overwhelmed myself thinking about all of the things that I wanted to leave behind me. I’d gotten so wrapped up in my own head. In thinking about all of the things that I was just going to be “done” with. I marched into 2018 determined to make this “my best year yet”... and if I’m honest, it actually was in many ways. It’s been a year of me stepping into things that make me happy and finally walking away from things that caused me pain.
Along the way I've learned a lot about myself.
I've said a lot of things.
Felt a lot of things.
Done a lot of things.
So here’s why I’m restarting this project. The past few months, I’ve been running. Nowhere fast, but running none the less. I’ve been hurting, I’ve been fighting, I’ve been crying. A lot. I’ve cried so many tears, and I have so many more in me. I’ve finally begun dealing with things that have taken years to come to the surface. I’ve finally begun to recognize patterns that are new, yes, but rooted in some deeply held lies.
And as the year began to wind down, I found myself in a similar place to where I started the year. I started to have thoughts and feelings that terrified me, and even though I’m very much an introvert, I couldn’t be alone. I was afraid to be alone.
But the most dangerous thing about all of this is that 2018 was my year of “trying to accept myself and live my truth”, but I refused to let my walls down. I basically poisoned myself in the name of trying to “be better”. The better I thought the world could handle. The better I thought the world would accept. Not the better I deserved.
I made bad decisions. I made great decisions.
I’ve done awful shit. Awful shit has happened to me.
I attached. I pushed away.
I isolated. I clung.
I've gotten ahead of myself. I’ve fallen behind.
2018 hasn’t been an easy journey. It’s actually been one of the hardest years of my life. But I also know that I’m not the only one who’s going, or will go, through something like this. Yet, somehow, It’s really hard to find stories, examples, people who are willing to talk about both the pain and the beauty of broken heartedness. So here I am. This is my journey, but I want to make it our journey. The way down was a slow steady spiral, but a spiral none the less. And here we are. And here's something I figured out. My brain and body knew something that I didn’t.
It's safe to break now.
Realizing that this break is a good thing, I’m stepping out of shame and embarrassment and diving head first into owning my story and letting it be mine. And I’m finally ready to tell it. To share it. To let it be know.
It’s safe to let go now.
I’ve finally found myself in a space where my best is appreciated, but my worst is also good enough. May we all get there. May we all find out homes.
If your heart is breaking in the face of what feels like unrelenting joy, my heart is with you.
If you're having a hard time loving yourself, know that I love you.
If you're grinning and bearing it. I am with you.
We can face this together.