If there’s anything this last year has taught me, it’s that standing still isn’t an option.
In the last twelve months, I have moved eight times. I have lived in three different cities and three different states. I have nearly died at my own hand. I have carved over 100 new scars into my shoulders. I have walked away from people and been walked away from. There’s been very little constant in my life other than Bear (the service pup).
I don’t adapt to change well. It usually throws my bipolar disorder for a loop and manages to snag my OCD along with it. However, through this last year, I’ve found myself learning (rather quickly) that the pitfalls of life are not meant to be excuses to stop us from moving. You can’t bury yourself under insecurities and bedcovers and expect to wake up one day completely healed and normal. It just doesn’t happen. You have to be proactive, to help yourself, to make changes. Life doesn’t hold still just because you are. The atoms that make you up are still moving, so why are you so still?
I asked myself that question this week. I looked at the happiness that was slipping through my fingers like sand and knew that I needed to act for once. I couldn’t continue allowing myself to be the victim of circumstances that I actually can control. So, I made a drastic change and cut ties that ran too deep and walked away from something I thought was my dream. That probably doesn’t make much sense without specifics, but just trust me that this was probably the most difficult week I’ve experienced since October.
It doesn’t really give me an excuse to stop living life, though. I took Bear hiking nearly every day this week to clear my head. I reinvested myself in my relationship with God. I reconnected with an old friend and mended fences that should never have been broken. It hasn’t been so easy. I’ve cried, held onto Bear for dear life, and begged God for just one more minute with my mom. It’s been hell, but it’s also been full of lessons I needed to learn – like that I can completely disassemble my king-sized bed and move it with no help, or that I am capable of doing things that terrify me, or that I am capable of humbling myself and admitting defeat.
It hurts…but it’s a good hurt. It’s progress. Growing pains, I guess.
Don’t be afraid to make changes, to choose yourself. I know this sea can be so daunting at times, but I promise that if you just keep moving, you won’t drown. Be safe, be happy, be healthy, and remember to keep your head above water.
I have complete faith in you.