On December 31, 2015, I blogged these words,
“2015 hit me like a train.
This year brought beautiful, beautiful moments, but also lower lows than I thought I could handle. I found myself being forced to ask for help. I was being held accountable to how I was caring for myself. Vulnerability was suddenly required. I was sucker punched again and again by being an adult. Finances, the death of a close friend, coming death of another, and distance took their toll on me.”
2016 did not appear to begin on a much better foot. The coming death that I spoke of in my post came about 12 hours later. I began the New Year in a daze, having spent my entire night on a train, and then learning of Sharon’s death. I remember sitting on the floor completely empty of answers. I had no idea what to do, and I ached to be home with my family, to grieve with others who were grieving.
February came a few short weeks later and I was exhausted. My heart was hurting, I was an eight-hour drive away from home, and I really just wanted to hibernate until life was better. I was in one of the most {seemingly} hopeless periods of my life. And I hate asking for help. As a strong, independent woman, I want to be able to complete every task by myself and be self-sustaining. However, I did not know how I would be able to see any changes continuing on my own and I asked for help.
The painful process of building relationships during that year paid off when I so desperately needed people to be in my corner. So many people surrounded me with love, and I got the help that I needed. I was reminded of the fact that I can carry weight. It is okay for me to hurt, just like I can feel joy. The permission that I would give anyone else to take up space applies to me as well. As awful as the hard times are, they can be wonderful reminders of the sweeter parts of life.
You are loved. I am loved. When life comes close to your face to scream, “There is nothing left for you”, I promise that there is.
I clung to the promise that I can positively impact this world.
And so I kept living.
Matt Haig and Jamie Tworkowski of To Write Love on Her Arms said it so beautifully in this post. We stay in the hope of being surprised, the hope of a new tomorrow.
I kept living because of family, coffee, sunsets, and opportunities to help others. I graduate after 31 more weeks of school, and I want to reach that marker of making it through undergrad. I stay for dreams of seeing Europe and publishing a book and becoming a licensed mental health counselor.
September 10th is World Suicide Prevention Day. By going to this page you can read more about my story, and why this is such an important conversation to me.
Even if life feels hopeless, keep living. Please. Life will surprise you.
Originally posted on Odyssey.
