Not too long ago I sat in the most profound darkness I'd ever encountered. The bottom. The mire. I could not see. I could only hear the shrillness of lies. I was giving up.
I had a gun in my mouth, ready to end the hurt, emptiness, fear. On my third go-round, I pictured my son, who's already had so much to overcome at only eight, finding me dead and I knew I couldn't go this way. For the first time I cried.
I've been in pain. My diagnosis was downgraded. Scary things were happening in my body that I could not control. I spent over a month in bed. I've battled greatly with this disease- first in total denial, then pushing too hard and not bouncing back, on to a numbing phase, to suicidal tendencies, and finally to this place.
I decided to live. To make drastic changes. Allowing myself a year- to focus, to eliminate chaos with discipline, to write/blog/journal my prayers/experiences/journey, to share with others- shifting and directing my life into an adventure of an intentional, passionate, directed life as I'd never done before.
Beginning today, September 1, rules have been revised, goals have been rewritten, hope renewed, determination, trust, worth dusted off, made shiny again.
A year. to heal my body, mend relationships, surrender to God-hand it all over, dig into my marriage and the vows we spoke, build passionately into my calling and legacy. A year of walking into fear, of faithful living like I've not fully engaged in before. A year to document thoughts, actions, outcomes, results, accomplishments. A year of freedom.
Showing up. Being mom and wife. Discipline resolves chaos. Integrity. My word. New ID. Hanging on to the past. Daily workout. Wahl protocol.
