Two weighty words to my weary soul. Simple syllables that haunt my heart with anxiety. Tiny words torrential enough to turn pink hearts to cold stone. I need new words.
Ones that won't rob me of risk and famish my future. To silence the static of the unknown with peace. Peace of knowing. Of leaning into a God who molded my bone from dust and breathed eternity into my lungs. I need new words.
He will be there always, I'm learning. Always in the rubble and ruins. Forever in the mess of humanity that keeps shackling me to distrust. Like a prisoner, I wobble in my chain-gang dance and beg for Him to come, to teach me new ways.
Show me words plucked from fields of revelation. No more "what if's," Show me words that strip lies from marrow and death from tongues. Words powerful enough to dismantle all others.
...and he lovingly thundered "I AM."
The copper leaves and blue sky, the cooling, generous wind, they are all a part of the autumn that I so desperately anticipate each year. While my senses are romanced, my emotions feel abandoned. I live with depression, but this time of year is particularly rich in body memory and heavy associations. Although every ounce of my being wants to just live in the beauty of this season, mentally, I am trying not to fall myself.
I want these cycles to break, so I listen to my body more intently, I try to recover the emotional truths that are buried under unhealthy emotions, I slow down, I breathe deeper, and I wait on those answers that seem impossible to receive. It is both a struggle and a release to be undergoing such change, but like anything worth attaining, there is a death that proceeds the change.
Rebecca Salnit wrote that the process of transformation consists almost entirely of decay. Pat Barker reinforces her sentiments by adding "that the early stages of change or cure may mimic deterioration...cut a chrysalis open and you will find a rotten caterpillar. What you will never find is that mythical creature, half caterpillar, half butterfly."
And it has never been more true that I am in the cycle of rot. The illusion that things are actually getting worse is ever-present, so I have to diligently remind myself that working through pain is a process, and that with bravery and stamina, I too, can receive the promise attached to the other side. So while the emotions at times feel unmanageable, I recognize that the caterpillar was never destined to come out of the chrysalis, well, another caterpillar.
I have confidence in God for justice and restoration, I have hope in intuition and therapy, I take courage knowing that I am committed to this path of healing, because I KNOW that I am part of a longer narrative. We weren't made to live in the transition, we were made to emerge as the same old us, but transformed and life-giving, and beautiful.
*please reach out and ask for comfort from others, don't hide your disease because of shame or inadequacy. above all, I pray that all of you who suffer like I do find hope*
I had the great privilege of sharing part of my story on this powerful site. This organization is dedicated to giving a voice to women all over the world. Through this beautiful medium, women have a platform to share their stories, a place to be empowered through community and support, and to give back into organizations that breathe for justice. Organizations like Compassion, One80tc, and Ester's Voice. They help bring healing and freedom to women on the fringes.
It would be my honor for you to check it out, to feel more rooted and connected, and to know that freedom is accessible for all.
or follow this link to my personal story thesheisproject.org/2016/11/2190-deaths-later-rheas-story/
There is something so emboldening about a new day. We are the same people who tend to fall into the same behaviors, yet there always seem to be variations in nature. It's the same sky, but new cloud formations, new graces breathing through the day, encouraging me on my path - to be the same me, but with varying formations of my own.
I'm choosing to show up, to let my past failures breed wisdom instead of bitterness, and to treat each moment as a sacred gift. May your day be sweet, not because life is always good, but because you choose for it to be.