The time has come and it's about time I shared with you who am I and what I'm about. I like to think I don't like intro blogs because they're mostly limited, but also... let's be real... an opportunity to talk about myself?! Who doesn't like that?
I feel like we live in a society that thrives on concise thought patterns. We love to define things. Who we are being one of them. I have spent almost a decade undoing who I thought I was and am doing my best to try to remember what I really am. Sounds woo woo... there really is no other way... and what I know about myself is that none of my thought patterns are concise. My brain works in metaphors. I like to imagine in story.
If you've taken the time to read my bio, you get the jist and I won't repeat all of who I am here.
I believe that who we are is constantly evolving. We are never the same person we were just a second ago, and lately I've been really working on being okay. This isn't to say that I haven't been okay, but I definitely walked through some shadow spaces.
For the past 9 months I have been in the valley, navigating the darkness with eyes wide open, but unable to see. Stumbling around, grasping for the edges of darkness, hoping I could familiarize myself with my surroundings and get to work. Work on learning from past mistakes, learning so that I could scale future obstacles without too much pain and humiliation, learning so that I can love harder and my life could be more beautiful. So that I could hurt less, myself and others.
What I found in those dark spaces was confirmation that I am allowed to exist.
I am allowed to exist. Can you imagine? Can you imagine the audacity that I AM ALLOWED TO EXIST?
In the valley I had to get really patient and understand that shadow is only an absence of light, and all I had to do was sit and wait until the sun rose again. It was only scary because it was dark, and in the dark our imagination takes root. Our imagination, mostly fueled by fear.
But all I needed to do was wait.
I could stumble... or I could sit.
I could grasp for fear, or I could hold on to faith.
Faith that I was allowed to exist, and in that allowance nothing was seeking my demise, my downfall. In God telling me I could live, and breathe, and love, everything else also wanted to support me in that wish. So I sat... and I waited. And a lot of the time I cried. I cried in terror, and in disbelief... because I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it.
How do I know the sun would actually rise? Was there some written guarantee somewhere that it would indeed get better? I sobbed for days, and weeks, and months, and I sobbed, until I couldn't sob any more. Until all that left the cracked corners of my mouth, and the dryness of my throat, and the heaviness of my heart was the simple wish to be okay. I just wanted to be okay. I wanted to make it through the night. I wanted to witness the sun rising, and when it did I wanted to be okay. I didn't wish to be strong. I just wanted to be okay.
And so I repeated my wish. I closed my eyes and I repeated my wish. Over, and over, and over, again. "I'm okay. I just want to be okay."
I spoke it clearly and concise, and hoped that somehow my breath would be enough to carry my wish through the night. It became a song of prayer. A yearning that seeped through my bones and my entire being.
And in between songs of prayer and my yearning -- as I slowly opened my eyes -- I saw some light. First a sliver of it, but as it kept rising it grew bigger, and I could see the formations of rock form around me. All this time a sturdy container that kept me safe. Walls that contained my tired body in them, and everything seeking to attack it out. I was always okay. I was always okay. I was always okay.
And, now, as I take my first step, I am uncovering all that's been available to me. Everything I wasn't able to see in the dark. I just had to wait until the sun rose.
But even in the darkness I was always allowed to exist
And I have always been okay.
So may this be your reminder. If you find yourself in the valley. Sing your songs of prayer, hold onto your wish. Wait until the sun rises, because it will, as it always does.
Hold on, because even in your hopelessness, and in your despair, and the deep deep darkness of the night, you are allowed to exist. You are okay.