I’ve made a commitment to greater truth and transparency in my work. And when I say “made a commitment,” what I really mean is that this work is asking it of me in order to move into what’s next. In order for me to ever find my footing again in my life and work and relationships. So here’s what I have for you today:
This year is asking too much of me in ways that are subtle and silent. In ways that eat at me and continue to twist me inside and out.
This year is asking me to write a book — but not just any book — one that requires excavation of the hardest, most painful stories from the crevices of my being, all while I work to heal and find my footing. While my equilibrium is tilted and my spirit is tired. It’s asking me to dredge back through all the things and people and moments that left marks on my soul, so I can tell a story I still don’t understand.
This year is asking me to let everything fall apart around me, to let it all crumble out beneath my two unsteady feet. If there’s a word to describe this year best, it would be loss. So much loss. Both chosen and thrust upon me, tragic and simple. Losses that will never be forgotten and ones that will fade with a little time and tenderness. It’s asking me to let go of so much more than I ever thought I would have to let go of. Than I ever thought I was capable of letting go of.
This year is asking me to be braver than I’ve ever been as I work to find my voice after years of having it shut down. After years of it genuinely being unsafe for me to show up and speak my truth. Years of being surrounded by people who reinforced a belief that I was “too much,” leading me to tone it down and dial it back. This year is asking me to heal what needs to heal so I can step fully into the person I’m here to be. Speaking all the truths and stories that need to be spoken.
This year is asking me just how much trust and faith I have that everything happens for a reason and that we’re always being supported. It’s trying to find out just how much I can lose and still wake up every day smitten with my life and the work I feel called to do. It’s asking me to strip everything down to the core, the truth, the purest form… and to keep on trusting as the intensity dials up.
I have more trust and faith than ever before.
I have a greater appreciation for surrendering to the flow.
I know, without a doubt, I’m being supported despite the wreckage.
I’m not going to sit here and pretend it’s easy, because it’s not. Not even a little bit. It’s easier to have trust and faith in a loving God or supportive Universe when things are falling into place all around us. When the people and opportunities we desire continue to show up at our front doors and in our inboxes. Far easier.
Having trust and faith and an appreciation for surrender doesn’t always look pretty and strong. It’s messy. It’s tear stained and requires a lot of naps. It’s moments where you have to pull the car to the side because you’re crying so hard you can’t see the road anymore. It’s finding yourself falling to your knees, crumbling into a ball on the floor, and fighting to find your breath. It’s the dirt beneath your fingernails as you claw your way through the wreckage that was your life, because you’re too tired to walk.
There are times where trust and faith are easy.
There are also the times where it’s not.
This is one of those times where it’s not even a little easy.
And I’m grateful beyond measure for the ways life is asking so much of me. I am tired, and I have cried a thousand tears in the arms of the ones I love because I feel like I have nothing left to give at times. But I’m grateful. Because this is the year I will look back on as a defining moment for both myself and my work. The point where part of my life broke away as the “before,” and I began walking into the “after.” Life is shaping me into the person I need to be, and it hurts like hell.
But I trust. I have faith.
I am grateful for the lessons.
Despite the tears. Despite the losses.
Despite the pain that aches in my bones.
Sometimes life will take people from us. It will take things and opportunities and everything we claim to have to our names. Sometimes it will beat us up and spit us out, being cruel and unfair. But I know enough about this life and world to know that it all does happen for a reason. Even the shitty things. And I’ve been through some shitty things. But I still have faith. I still trust.
So take a moment to fall to your knees if you need. Take some time to cry it out. To nap and rest and find a moment to regain your bearings. But don’t give up, no matter what life throws at you. Losing everything isn’t nearly as scary as it seems, and it’s not the end. It’s the beginning of something beautiful… something you can only see if you’re willing to walk through this time with a little trust and a little faith. With surrender. With gratitude. You can do it, I’m right here with you.