And I quote …

​”Words are the light I’ll use to light my path. This is no disaster. This is simply a crisis. I will let myself be a child at the beach who digs in the sand and lifts her sieve out in front of her, watching the sand fall away and hoping that treasure will be left.”

~ Glennon Doyle Melton

Things my kids say

My two teenagers have taken to singing “I’ll Be There For You” by The Rembrandts (or the Friends theme song) everytime something goes wrong and Im at wit’s end. 

Grocery bag splits open, spilling groceries across just cleaned floor:

Kids: 🎼”so no one told you life was gonna be this way”🎵 *clap clap clap 👏 *

So I kept living 

On this night last year, at just about this time the lying bastard that depression is got me in the corner and beat the hell out of me. 

I didn’t want to feel anymore, didn’t think I could. I was ready to find a peaceful dream…just fall asleep and let the pain fall away. With a handful of sleeping pills and another of pain pills, I made an attempt. 

I penned the following note to my children:

You both are a dream come true. I never loved anyone or anything as much as I loved you. I know that may not seem like a lot right now, but with all my heart with every fiber of my being I have prayed over your lives, for your very existence. I dreamed you to life. I know I have failed you miserably. I hate myself for it. I hate that I have given you less than you deserve in life. That I was too young and ignorant to pick a better father for you. You both deserved better than that. NONE of it is your fault. It is mine alone. I could never forgive myself for that. Today would have been Chris and I’s 15th anniversary had we remained married. I was never strong enough to leave him, always stuck in codependence but I had to be strong enough for you. The stakes got too high. Please know that you were planned and dreamed and hoped for and so very loved. Please know that. It is not a lack of love but my own weaknesses, my failing mind, spirit and body that I do not want to burden you with any further. I want you to be free of me and my inadequacy. Please believe me when I say that there have been countless days that the only reason I went on was for just the  you. I just couldn’t anymore. My heart and soul were beyond saving and repair and there is no one to blame for that. It was a seamless stretch of circumstances with no bounds in which I was buried by hopelessness. I am tired and have nothing left to offer in this shell. I only have my love and guidance which I pray I am given enough of Gods grace to allow me to  protect you from my poor choices and mistakes from a distance, but allows you to know Im always with you. You are my life, my legacy. You must go on and be the change this world desperately needs. The light that casts away darkness as you always did in my heart. You alone are enough just as you are. You always have been and always will be. Love and carry one another to the finish line. Ill be watching. Ill be the biggest fan of your lives. 

I love you. 

Please forgive me. 


After that is mostly a blur…

A phone call came through despite my phone being on “do not disturb”. On the other end, an angel. 

There were police and paramedics. 

An ambulance ride. 

Saying: “I fucked up. I don’t want to die”

In and out of consciousness. 

A hospital transfer. 

Conversations I couldn’t stay conscious throughout. 

I lost days but not my life. 
A year later, I find that I am stronger than I ever thought possible. 

I have to keep finding that strength on my own. 

So I kept living. 

being raw & vulnerable with the wolf at the door.

via: Rebelle Society 
You’re dangling precariously.
You’re frozen and trembling. You’re gripped with uncertainty and the ominous unknown. The wolf is at the door.
The bills are piling up, but no money is coming in. Or maybe your baby left you, walked right out. Perhaps you’ve made an epic mistake, with disastrous and irrevocable consequences. You can barely breathe, suffocated by the unwieldy weight of your own broken heart.
You frantically scan the landscape, looking for clues or any kind of lifeline. But the vista is barren. You’re shredded into a million bewildering pieces. You’re hanging on for sweet life. Or maybe you don’t know what you’re hanging on to anymore, or if you even can.
This is survival mode. And it will be okay.
Raw vulnerability is the midwife to grace. Stripped of your old safety nets and certainties, you have nothing but openness and new eyes. There is a pouring in of all the things you never noticed before. Even a dew-soaked leaf takes on a fresh poignancy and buys you a nanosecond of peace and beauty.
The very light of day changes. It softens and clarifies. Your pain is not here to batter you. It’s just making passage for perspective, transcendence and rebirth.
No matter the mayhem of the present moment, your heart is still steadily pounding. Your lungs are still expanding and contracting. Oxygen is still coursing through your body. And as you flail around in your anguish, your inner warrior is hard at work behind the scenes: rendering first-aid, holding your broken soul and keeping you alive.
He or she is fighting for you, more ferociously and diligently than you can imagine.
Your mind is your best weapon and your biggest obstacle. It can spin you into infinite madness or ground you in brave resolve. Panic can make it chatter relentlessly, but you can bring it back to earth again.
Step outside. Turn your precious face upward. Breathe. The air and the sky and the sun will calm the clamor. You don’t have to figure it all out right now.
Grief is the natural and real response to loss and hardship.
Despair, however, is grief on steroids. Grief holds its own gentle resolution. Despair is resignation, a long-term forecast for gloom. Fear has an ugly snarl but limited power. Still, it rages like a lunatic, leaving you disoriented.
Courage moves through the chaos, one steady step at a time. Your heartache is like a free fall. You can scramble to fill the void, grabbing for whatever fix you can to numb the jagged edges. You can also persevere with quiet dignity. In every moment there are choices, even in survival mode.
The hardest part of survival mode is the ambiguity.
It will not budge. There is no clear pathway to relief, or even a guarantee that you’ll find it. You are at the mercy of time and forces beyond your control. Such is the nature of ambiguity. Your present circumstances merely accentuate the point.
But even within the ambiguity there is possibility.
Although you’re shaking on the edge, there is a larger view available. This current difficulty, with all its sorrow, dread and anger, is just a blip on a much greater narrative. There is spaciousness, wonder and the divine gift of impermanence.
All are there for you. There is elegant liberation in releasing your weary clutch. You have already traveled for eons. Grace is the tender seraph pulling you home, wherever that may be.
And you will be okay.
*****

This is what gets me: Part Three

This story will always be one of lost and found. I will always put it down only to find myself stumbling over it again. All my life, I will remember one thing. All his life, he will remember another.

But Im ok with getting lost, just to find myself and find my way again. I have to fall to rise above it all. Diving in without my wings if it means that I relearn to fly each time. Rising like a  pheniox through the fire, through the relit flames. Im grateful for each time that I get to discover, once more, what life is other than a cage to me.