Twenty eight was the hardest year of my life. I’ve experienced my share of hard in my short amount of time on this earth, but twenty eight was the culmination of all the hard. . . staring it all in the face for the first time; calling it what it was. . . letting myself experience and grieve the pain as almost for the first time. . . and then the changing. . . The beginning of a metamorphosis. . . A Genesis; grace from God.
Twenty eight found me processing the effects of a horrific past; memories I spent a lifetime trying to forget. I was forced to stare my greatest fears in the face and some days I could hardly exist; even the mere act of breathing seemed like an impossibility. I was hypervigilant, clinically depressed, trying to learn new ways to deal with the effects of PTSD, struggling with suicidal ideation and two near attempts. My health was failing; I was diagnosed with chronic auto-immune disease. My marriage was struggling and my relationships were falling apart. I put the pursuit of a fantastic career in something I am passionate about on hold. Though I kept a busy schedule and was with people, I felt very, very alone. My life was being totally deconstructed. God had brought me to a place where there was nothing left but Him. . . total and complete reliance.
Twenty eight wrecked me. . . and renewed me.
Twenty eight saw strength and courage, made me a fighter for truth. I learned to love without abandon. Twenty eight saw restoration, newness, compassion. Sufficiency in Christ. Overcoming. Hope.
Yesterday I welcomed twenty nine with joy; eager to continue the hard, hard work of deconstruction and rebuilding. . . to continue the journey of becoming the woman God truly intends me to be. To speak life and hope into others, to love wild and to live free.