It's funny how something you were once so sure of can easily become something you fear with such little time in between. This podcast and brand was something that 2021 me was so steadfast in and something that I saw myself doing for many years to come. The ideas were flowing and even in my lower points it was something that I saw for my future, but in an instant, all my confidence left me and I no longer could hold onto something that once consumed me.
As I sit down to write my first blog in over three years, I am aware of the nervousness I feel within myself, as if I am doing this for the very first time all over again. Except, the fears that I carried when launching the podcast in 2020 are nowhere near the same fears I carry with me today. Nonetheless, the butterflies are still ever-present within me. My reasons for taking a lengthy break are quite simple and will be explained in part as I make my return to this space. The journey I have been on since I last uploaded any content for DYTL has been the most heart-aching and defining journey of my life. My faith in God has been challenged daily, and on some days, challenged by the seconds. The battles that I have faced since the end of 2021 have been larger Goliaths than I ever thought imaginable. There are truly no words to describe the amount of pain my soul has had to endure over the recent years, but there are also no words to describe the immense and complete grace of God in my life.
On the day of my sister's funeral, a close family friend of mine approached me, gently holding my hands, and spoke the most sincere words that still, to this day, ring true in my ears. She said...
"Death takes you to a deep place, not everyone can go that deep with you. Some people are shallow and some people have depth and you are now a person with depth."
Everyone reading this who has experienced the loss of a loved one understands the sentiment expressed above. We find ourselves in an unwanted club, enduring perpetual and unending grief. We would trade everything to return to being those "shallow people" if it meant our loved ones were still alive and with us. However, the impossibility of returning to the past and being with those we once cherished haunts us until our final breath.
Experiencing the magnitude of loss that took place in my family during the last few years has taken me to the deep end of the pool. While I wade under the cold dark water unable to breathe, I am surprised with every moment that I am still alive. How am I still here when I cannot even breathe? How has my time not ended yet? How come God allowed my sister to die but not me? There's a struggle that takes place in the deep end of the pool and it's a struggle that I often did alone. How do you even begin to ask for help when your mind plays tricks on you regarding the trauma you've experienced? The first year after losing my sister and grandfather I had no idea how to process my experience. The days I lived during that time are a complete blur, and then after losing my dad, my life turned completely upside down. Nothing looked even remotely the same, especially myself, and it took me hitting my absolute bottom to realign myself with who I know I am on a fundamental level.
Over the last few years, my friend's statement has rang true and I've learned that there are very few people who can take the deep-end plunge with you. Many will gather around the pool to watch you and wonder why you don't just swim back to the top to breathe fresh air again. Many will dip their hand in the water with the intent to pull you out but their arms can only go so far in the pool while you are weighted down and sunk to the bottom. Then there are the few that sit at the bottom with you and do nothing else, just sit. That presence alone is enough to guide you into breathing again even though your lungs are full of water; the presence of someone who isn't afraid to see you at your absolute and complete worst is enough to give you the strength to learn to live again.
Those people who sat with me at the bottom of the pool during the most excruciating moments of my life and the people that I have had the privilege to cross paths with and reconnect with are the reasons how I know that the grace of God does exist and is ever-present within me.
Yes, death takes you to a deeper place within yourself. Yes, the waves of depression will wash over you with an extreme blow to every aspect of your being. But the deep end of the pool is where you find friends that stick closer than a brother. It's where you can connect with yourself stripped bare, rubbed raw, and completely exposed in the most uncomfortable but necessary of ways. It's where your connection with your higher power can be truly defined as more than just a myth or a feeling but solid ground to stand on. I found that in the midst of the darkest days when the world continued to spin despite mine standing still, the presence of God just sitting with me in those moments was the most infuriating and comforting thing I've ever experienced. The mix of emotions always seemed to overtake me until I rested my eyes at night and woke up to do it all over again the next day. To know that God has seen me in my most unpleasant and depressing moments and yet continued to show me reasons for purpose is a depth I'm glad to have reached.
How does one even begin to express the magnitude of pain one experiences without falling into deep despair? I rely on the realness of Jesus and how he suffered similarly to myself in deeper ways than many can imagine. I acknowledge that two things can be true at one time: that this life I am living without half my family and many wounds of abuse sucks and feels meaningless, and that this life I am living is full of love and purpose and joy and good moments, and happy tears, and LIFE.
What a gift we've been given to live. What a gift we've been given to experience the moments on the tops of the mountains and the moments at the bottom of the valleys. When realizing that the depths of death can take you places within yourself that you never dreamed of going, it can lead you back to the things you once loved and enjoyed. Bringing you back to places like this where fear and depression pushed you far away and forced you to fight your way back. The depths of death brought me back here to a place of better understanding compassion and love for others. It's allowed me to dare myself to love.
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