Nothing about my story is special. Not the pain of my past. Not the surviving I had to do. Not the suicidal thoughts I've lived with. Not one single health difficulty, physical or mental.
The circle itself is exhausting, the emotions life changing. Nevertheless, we do not give up.
The feeling of doom settles so deeply in your veins that it crushes you. My stomach took on being the teacups at Disney the rest of the day, my chest lifted weights the rest of the night. My mind refused to shut off.
To assume “God” will never give us more than we can handle expresses a limit that God simply does not have.
This has been a long day, and one I hope to forget soon. I know that is not the answer- but some days it just seems to be easier to wish such foolish things, if even for a brief second.
Run, little girl, run. Straight to the precipice down below. Run, run, as far as you can No where else to go.
s much as I love those times of running away, God tells me I do not have to run to rest.
I searched the pockets cautiously, hoping God was wrong-yes, I literally hoped He, God, was wrong.
And when you look around again, to thank that optimistic soul for their persuasion and their honesty, for their perfectly timed intervention and cascade of uplifting all-inspiring words, you come up short.
The sun rose today. Assured sign of life, forward we endure. Even when left with why. The scene unfolds before us, time and time again. Words evade, as thoughts escape, and pain is loudly and visibly displayed. We will question motives, means and plans. but there is no solace for hurt, explanations seem futile, ‘Why’ …