courage – She Speaks True Words

On a clear night in the middle of summer, it is easy to see the countless flickering lights in the sky, illuminating the darkness of the night. The moon shines in its brilliance, whether in its full glory or showing just a sliver of itself to creation below.

I have spent many nights looking up at that sky, staring in wonder at its beauty, praying that somehow in the vastness of existence I might make something meaningful of my life. I feel my presence in the universe is so small and yet has so much to offer. I hope and pray that the chapter that lies before me would be one that I wouldn’t be afraid to read and look forward to, but rather that I would turn the page with anticipation of what’s to come.

There have been many nights that the sky has not been bathed in light, its magnificence covered by clouds and haze and streetlights. While I have been disappointed that I cannot see the sky in its full radiance, with the moon partially hidden or just a few flickers of stars blinking in the night, I know that its beauty still exists behind the veil. I know that just because I cannot see it fully, that doesn’t mean the splendor of the night isn’t there behind the shadows.

I have come to realize that just as I cannot see all the stars, just as I cannot see the full story that is being written about my life, that doesn’t mean that the next chapter and the path to writing my story don’t exist. If I’m being honest, I have found myself in the same chapter, reading the same page and paragraphs repeatedly, getting stuck in passages and letting them ruminate in my brain. I know where the story is leading and yet I find myself hesitant to turn the page. Because sometimes it feels safer and easier to stay in the same spot in the story because I have memorized what it says. The familiar feels comforting, but I know I cannot experience the fullness of this life if I don’t keep going where I know the story is leading.

Once upon a time I liked change, and I even craved it. But over the years the ease of familiarity has felt safer, and I have longed to stay in this chapter. The chapter of comfort with little risk or trying of new things. Because denying that the rest of the story could possibly become something amazing has felt easier, rather than trusting that the next chapter is where I needed to go. But as I have settled into ease, the more discomfort I’ve felt, and I know it’s time for change. I’ve felt the urge to keep reading the story instead of staying stuck in the familiar.

Little by little I have let myself read ahead. I have let go and stepped out in faith toward new things. Even if that means facing challenges and taking risks in order to find my way. I go back to my anchor and my faith when I need a reminder of what is safe and true, and I continue to do the work of healing, of believing, of trusting in myself and of knowing I am capable and worthy of great things.

Getting over the hump of disbelief or lack of faith in ourselves or God’s plan is what is necessary to keep us going. Learning to trust ourselves and the process is what gives us hope. Letting go of our own doubts and fears and surrendering to trust is what gives us the courage and strength to move forward.

It is in the letting go that we are able to hold on to what is good and true. We let go so we can trust in the vastness of the night before us, even when we can’t see the full picture.

We let go so we can hold on. We hold on so we can trust. We trust so we can become who we are made to be. We are made to be something beautiful and amazing. And that’s why I look forward to what lies ahead. The next chapter is waiting for me and I’m ready for it.

At this year’s Olympic Games, Simone Biles was poised to dominate artistic women’s gymnastics and go home with the all-around gold medal and help win the gold medal for the American team.

Her withdrawal from multiple events last week stunned the world as she chose to focus on her mental health rather than succumb to the pressure to perform when she wasn’t in the right mind. Getting lost mid-air in her vault, Simone realized that she needed to take care of herself mind and body before she could dangerously injure herself.

I can’t even fathom the extent of the pressure she is under as the GOAT, the things Simone has had to endure as an elite gymnast, or the frustration and anger she’s felt from the lack of support by the USA Gymnastics organization for the covered up assault she went through for years. However, I will say this: I applaud Simone for being willing to step up and set boundaries for herself. To recognize that her mental health and safety as a gymnast are more important than winning.

During the all-around competition, as I watched Suni Lee prior to her final tumbling routine before clinching her gold medal, I saw her hands shaking and watched Suni place her hand on her stomach, breathing in and out to calm her nerves before starting her routine. She too felt the pressure and needed to find herself in the midst of it.

Breathing. Finding her center. Both of these women modeled courage in different ways. Courage to listen to themselves. To catch their breath and find what they needed in order to succeed—both on and off the mat. Because their true success is in their strength of character and not in what they accomplish.

What I’ve appreciated about what has happened this last week is the conversation it has started around mental health and prioritizing self-care over self-sabotage, or being true to yourself and what you need.

If I’m totally honest, I haven’t been completely true to myself and what I need this past year and a half as a widow and solo parent in the midst of Covid. I’ve had hard days and easier days and some great days and just days that are longer than long. I’ve grieved but also have let myself “get lost in the air” as I busy myself with day-to-day tasks, parenting, scrolling social media or watching mindless television.

I have mentioned before the anxiety I’ve dealt with, the elephant on the chest feeling, the pit in the stomach that comes and goes. This high functioning anxiety allows me to push through, to tackle what needs to get done, to live in hypervigilance despite the stress and the weight of grief, but I’ve come to recognize that the pressure of the weight I’m carrying is getting to be too heavy. I can’t keep carrying on as I have been. So here I am, nearly 1.5 years after losing David, recognizing that my mental health matters not just for me, but for my girls too, and I’m prioritizing more meaningful self-care. Not the pamper yourself kind of self-care, but I have decided to meet with a counselor to walk with me in my healing journey.

One day at a time. My mantra since the beginning. Healing is a journey and not one that can be resolved overnight. It could be argued that we are all healing from our own wounds. Our own losses. Who’s to say that we couldn’t all benefit from prioritizing our own mental health? We take sick days when we are sick, and let’s be honest, mental health days when we need them (although probably not as often as we should). We go to the doctor when we aren’t feeling well physically and we ought to normalize going to a professional when we feel that we could use the support to get through hard times.

I know that this step is just one of many in my healing. If there’s one thing I’ve learned this past year it is that grief is not linear. You don’t just start and stop over time. Grief changes you and comes and goes in waves. The waves become less tumultuous and windy but they are still there.

So for today I choose trust. I trust in myself and my inner voice that tells me to pause. To pause and to trust in every part of the healing process – even the hard parts. Trusting requires a continual surrender to the path and the process. But trust doesn’t always have to be about martyrdom, either. Trust and faith require me to let go and be present, letting things be as they are. Giving in to the here and now and letting myself be fully present in it.

The here and now is messy and hard and painful but it is also beautiful and exquisite and filled with good things…I just have to be patient through the process and take care of every aspect of myself, letting myself receive fully God’s grace and love. And when I do, that is the true mark of courage, a strength that truly is remarkable.

Tag: courage

Faith, hope & starry nights.

Self care takes real courage.