I've decided I have a lot of love to give, to share, to enjoy, to receive. I'm not going to waste it. So let me just inform the universe it's okay, actually more than okay, to open the floodgates of love.
I'm pretty sure I don't have to do anything more than that. I know this, because I believe in the Big Guy upstairs. He holds the cards, and truthfully He doesn't need my permission for anything. His plan is better than any I could dream.
But, and there is always a but, I do have to be open. For a long time I have not. I've been struggling to find my footing. Working through regrets, afraid of more change, picking up the broken pieces. In a way I have hunkered down and been holding on in the quiet of work and solitary life. I alternately savored the solitude and wrestled with it. Face it I've felt beaten by my losses, and traumatized by the stigma of being a survivor of suicide loss. If I sound like a broken record, forgive me. I have to, and will, own this truth over and over to accept it, even though I will never understand it. Perhaps if I stand up boldly to it, another will find the courage to do the same.
I deserve to look forward with joy. I deserve to be loved. I am not defined by my loss as much as I am being reborn from it. I am learning to use my words. If these aren't graces from pain endured I don't know what they are. We rarely get the life we bargained for. Sometimes it is way, way more beautiful that we could have ever imagined. Other times it is tragic in ways never anticipated. Sometimes it is both beautiful and tragic. Sometimes early joys dissolve into epic grief. Life is hard, life is blessed, life is beautiful.
I chose to let go of the fear of living fully. This journey may be harder than I anticipate and easy than I envisioned. It will involve pushing through, opening up, being grateful for how messy life can be. It will call me to be brave in ways only God, my therapist and I will understand. It will require grace and growth. We are called to love and be loved. It's time I started answering.
