Forever Indebted

I am beginning to relinquish my feelings of sorrow for feelings of gratitude. It's strange to admit that out loud. Nevertheless, it's a truth I'm now living. I am thankful for the ebb and flow of emotions that pour from this experience. The valleys have made me really appreciate the peaks, and I am thankful for the immense feelings of loss, for they bring comfort to the fact that I once experienced something that warrants such ardent feelings. I am able to begin compartmentalizing areas of my life from one another, helping me to really value the ever-evolving concept of healing.
But regardless of where I am on my journey at this moment, I don't ever want to dismiss or not acknowledge what I am most thankful for: the benevolent nature of people who remind me that there's more to life than the tragedy that has consumed my thoughts for almost three months. Their innate ability to make me feel joy, to feel balanced, to feel...okay. And when I am not feelings those things, they encourage me to allow the darkness, but not to get lost in it.
When we are consumed by the flames of our own personal hell, we sometimes have to be reminded that we need help being pulled out of it. It is nothing to be ashamed of, rather, it is a necessity. I am all about self sufficiency and independence, but it is a process. Without a support system, without MY support system, I would be a pile of ash. I am not quite sure how to ever thank them in a way that makes them feel, deep inside their bones, how many times they have saved me. Saved me from drowning, saved me from doubt, saved me from hopelessness, saved me from... myself.
No one person has played the same role. It isn't until tragedy that you realize the individual super powers of your army of warriors. I have wanted to feel defeated, but you wouldn't let me. You see, in the midst of my shit storm, you didn't come to me with a solution. No, you merely handed me an umbrella and told me to figure it out. You empowered me to understand that while I can't stop the storm, I damn sure don't have to stand in the rain.
But some days it pours. And some days I forget my umbrella. And on those days, I realize the storm is coming from my eyes, soaking my cheeks with memories, begging to be wiped away. And I do it. I wipe them. And after the storms on those days, I realize that while I am not waterproof, I learn to appreciate the sun a little more. And by the sun, I mean you...each and every one of you.
To those of you who have played a part {and I am positive you know who you are}, thank you. Thank you for not allowing me to savor in my solitude. Thank you for your {sometimes merciless} honesty. Thank you for preserving the best parts of me. You have all picked up pieces of a broken me, and have put me back together in a way I could never do myself. You have sifted through those pieces with me, helping me purge the ones that no longer fit. You made me realize that those pieces are not missing pieces of myself... those pieces were hers that I feared releasing. They no longer belong to me. They aren't missing... they were merely clinched in the crevices of my grip, cutting my flesh, waiting to be let go. And with your help, they are now planted in the earth with the intent that they will be picked up with the winds of this storm, and returned to her, as they should be.
And without those pieces, I am lighter.... able to fly higher.
So thank you all, for giving me the courage to trade those small, heavy pieces for larger, lighter wings. Above the storm I go, to a place of extraordinary restoration.

Much Love,
Beth

A very special thank you to: NM, CM, SW, KT, JW, RW, JF, CA, JVJ, JT, JH, DA, DJ, JG, KN

Fire Works

Fire. Such a fascinating element.
It never fails in the many facets of its purpose.

As I read everyone's personal reviews of their 2017, I am at a loss as to how I can sum mine up to a few sentences. I'm scared of overlooking all the good. And then I think, "How can I?"

If you had asked me a month ago how my year went, I would have probably used a hand gesture to describe how I felt about it because I couldn't muster the mental energy to illustrate it with words.
But somehow, through excruciating pain, came an extraordinary end to the year 2017. I discovered fire.

I discovered how it burns, and it warms. It destroys, and it welds. It produces black ash, and provides bright light. It spreads, it smolders, it glows, and it cracks. And with each characteristic, it serves a purpose.

Whatever it touches, it burns. Words and thoughts can be fire, people can be fire, and experiences can be fire. They all have the potential to burn us... and sometimes they do.

But, I also learned that those same things can bring us warmth. They can make us feel comforted, safe, relaxed, and welcomed. They can weld our broken parts, and heat the cold corners of our hearts. They can tame us when we are raging, and they can bring us light when we are blind.

2017 has brought me all of the above. Nearing the end of 2017, though, my world was clouded with darkness. What i failed to realize, though, is that the darkness is the best lighting to see a spark. And life handed me a few in the last few weeks. And those sparks... well, they were beautiful, and warm, and... extraordinary. They presented in the form of people and experiences, family and friends, moments of clarity and moments of unexpected joy.

Just like fire, we become ignited. And just like fire, all it takes is a spark. My wish for those who need that spark... once you find it, may your flame breed a wildfire so bright it outshines the glaring embers that illuminated the worst parts of your seemingly impossible feats.

Fire is light. Don't seek it... be it.

Happy New Year, everyone.