My Heart Aches as I Write This

November 5, 2017

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again:
Writing a book is so very far from glamorous.

At least the book I’m attempting to write and the stories I’m attempting to share. A book about the last three years of my life… a season of living that broke me open and stripped me bare. That left my life and business and self in a mess of pieces on the floor. A season that ripped everything known and comfortable and secure from my hands, and left me fighting so hard just to stay upright. To find my footing in the aftermath of so much loss.

But that season, it gave so much more than it took… though it required time and patience and a whole lot of surrender to the unknown. So much willingness to let go, to trust, to have faith that I was exactly where I was supposed to be, even as everything crumbled to the ground around me.

There are many stories I don’t want to tell you, because they were so incredibly painful to live through that I’m not entirely sure I can survive the remembering that’s required for writing this book.

Yet, I always knew writing it would be a deeper layer of healing that’s all things necessary and good. And so far, that’s the case. My heart aches at the memories as they pour out of me onto the page. And it swells with gratitude for everything I’ve walked through in the last three years.

That season of living shaped me in ways I’ll never forget and will always be stronger for, and while writing this book I’m constantly reminded of these words from Amber Haines: “One day I will find myself in the wilderness again, and I will be unafraid.”

I have never been so confident in my ability to survive and thrive than I am in this moment… as I remember, and write about, the most hellacious chapter of my life. We are truly resilient creatures, with an ability to grow and find purpose and joy in the aftermath the most awful experiences. But it takes clawing our way back from the depths of hell to know that in our bones.