2013: Year-end Review

It's been a while. & that's okay. At this time last year, I was so excited to see 2012 go.  I was filled with anticipation for what was to come,  & as a result of my haste to simply get through the next year, I think I missed out on the process of goal-setting for 2013. I had a few half-hearted ideas scribbled into my journal, and a whole lot of excitement for the future.  I welcomed the new year with hopeful expectation that there was something good to come. 

& this year was good. It was a different kind of good than I expected, but I am now able to look back on it with gratitude.
  In 2013 I:

reached the half-way mark for receiving a doctorate. Whoa. The end is so close,
ran the Music City Half Marathon [in the pouring rain] with some of my closest Nashville friends,
watched my heart continue to heal by the grace of a loving God,
spent a week in Florida nannying some crazy kids, and hanging out with a friend in our own condo,
made the decision for where I would spend my clinical rotations & presented my residency proposal,
wrestled through being sick, &  a few health complications,
Participated in a local CSA,
attended several joyful weddings,
celebrated my favorite, Fort Collins holiday,
took a few road trips,
explored beautiful little towns,
laughed a lot,
cried a lot,
& learned a lot.

Here's to 2014.

Reflections on a Year of Growth

“Rejoice, my heart. You’ve been made whole by a love that will not let you go.”

        Just hours before I found myself sobbing in his passenger seat, I had clicked “publish” to my most recent blog post titled,  “1095 days.” The irony in the documentation of our third anniversary on the day he broke up with me stole the breath from my lungs, but seemed eerily conclusive at the same time. For a moment, I almost appreciated how on-schedule things had come full circle. In that moment, I saw our entire relationship-- from the moment he bravely grabbed my hand, 1095 days before, to this conversation in his passenger seat-- flash before me. Despite knowing in my deepest heart that our expiration date had arrived, I remember thinking, “If he were to propose in this very moment, my answer would be ‘yes’.” I knew nothing about how much could change in a year.

            The following days were a blur of crying-induced migraines followed by emotional numbness. I didn’t know it then, but the numbness would stay with me for a while. For the first time in my life, I was afraid to be alone & I found every excuse to be in a room full of strangers as often as possible. I avoided anyone who knew me, [who knew us] because tangled within my broken heart lived the fear that verbalizing our break-up validated its reality. Denial seeped into my bones,  & immediately, I began preparing for restoration. For 3 weeks, I waited for his call. I waited for his realization that letting me go was the biggest mistake he’d ever made, & I waited for God to just answer what I asked of him: Why wouldn’t he just fix things? I knew nothing about how much could change in a year.

        I spent the next 8 months floundering in and out of frustration with my heart’s inability to heal, & if I’m really honest, still waiting for that call.  I dreamt of him every night for weeks at a time, and I feared each morning that followed because it brought the perpetual discovery that brokenness was my reality. Each day felt like the rebirth of sadness, devoid of healing. My heart ached like it never had before. I knew nothing about how much could change in a year.

-----

Here I am, a year later. For the first time in 4 years, I watched April 8^th pass without any significant value besides the fact that the weather here in Nashville was the most beautiful it’s been in quite some time. The year that has passed since I sat in his passenger seat for the last time has been so different than I ever imagined. I dreaded this day for so long. While there were countless moments of peace and understanding, there were also moments when I genuinely believed I wouldn't know happiness again. But as each day passed, I slowly rebuilt my life without him, finding sincere joy in the process. I discovered the miraculous beauty of being honest with myself & others, and I began to taste the sweetness of redemption in a way I've never known before. I will forever remember this year as a time when I learned true surrender, deep healing, & the freedom of a foundational trust in the direction of my life by a loving, gentle God. I felt what I never thought I'd feel: This chapter is over, & it's good.

On this day,  I have more to be thankful for than I ever thought possible. As I reflect on the past year, I can truthfully say that I am falling in love with the day-to-day journey I am on.

 I know much about what can change in a year.

-Laura

Mental Health & Brokenness

“There are some who take anti-depressants and communion and there are those who think both are a crutch.” –Ann Voskamp

Last Saturday, upon hearing the news that Rick Warren’s son had committed suicide after a long battle with depression and mental illness, my heart broke.  My heart broke for his family & those who knew him well, & my heart broke for the realization of depravity, that death always seems to reveal. Despite our efforts to recognize the beauty that can result after it is over, death is never a pretty thing.

Humans weren’t meant to suffer.

Humans weren’t meant to take their own lives.

Humans weren’t meant to die.

           But as it often does, heartbreak reveals the disintegration of what was meant to be.  Hearts weren’t meant to break. But they do, & their brokenness mirrors a broken world that will continue to break, aching to be redeemed. On Saturday, I found myself painfully aware of my desire for redemption here. I wanted it now.

          When I chose to pursue occupational therapy, I knew that mental health would be a world I would become submersed in. Despite my habituation to the topic, hearing about these tragedies never gets easier for me. & I hope it never does.  As I first sat down to write this post, I wanted to talk about the broader scope of public opinion behind mental health. But after reading comment after comment about how this man’s death could have and should have been prevented-most lacking a shred of compassion or understanding for the complexity behind depression & mental illness- I changed my mind. I couldn’t handle the stigmas I found, the ignorance, or the lack of sensitivity for such a painful subject. My cynicism didn’t need the fuel. Instead, I found myself thinking about the bigger picture. Not everybody is depressed. Not everybody wants to take his or her own life. But everybody is broken.

He is.

I am.

You are.

Thoughts like this keep me up at night, but thankfully, that is not the end of the story.  All week, I’ve been thinking about the conclusion that is yet to come—the redemption that I feel my heart longing for, where there is no more death, longing, or pain.  My heart aches for it now, but I can rest in the promise that it is coming. 

“Light pried through the dark. A shaft came through the window like a lifeline.  & The birds sang, & we heard them.” 

What Might Have Been [Part 2]

          Every once in a while, I experience an epiphany that I've already had before. They are the same thoughts twice, & the only difference between the two is the recognition that I have changed between the first and second occurrences. This morning, as I sat in church, I had an overwhelming realization that this was happening. For almost an hour, I sat in contemplation of how my life has progressed over the past 12 months and how things might have been had things not have unfolded the way they did.

           I have dreaded the month of April for an entire year now. It hasn’t hung as heavy upon me recently as it once did, but the idea of a year passing has gently pressed on my mind on good days, & pervasively stolen my concentration on bad ones. While sitting in the darkened sanctuary this morning, thoughts regarding “what might have been” leaked into my mind in the softest way possible at first, but before I knew it, I could think of nothing else. 

[I’ve mentioned it before, but this tends to be how thoughts sneak up on me.]

            Back in June, I was reading “Bittersweet” by Shauna Niequist and was struck by the truth that time was passing like it always does, yet my circumstances were drastically changing. I was crippled by an inability to fix things or slow life down, and I wrote this blog post. In that moment, I dreaded the following year more than I’ve dreaded anything. The proceeding months after that post brought a slow wave of peace into my heart, & until this morning, I genuinely thought I wouldn’t think of it again.

            But this morning I did. As I confronted the beauty that has unfolded in the recent months, I became instantly overcome by thankfulness that things did not happen like they might have last April. Sacrifices that I could have [& was willing] to make don’t need to be made. Compromises that I could have [& was willing] to make don’t need to be made. I am so very thankful for the opportunity I was given to start new. It’s a new year, and I am thankful for it.