Dear One-Year-Ago Me...

Timehop.

An app that shows you what you were doing/posting/taking pictures of one, two, three, four years ago.

Usually I open up the app and am flooded with pictures of my three littles, and I nearly drown in the nostalgia of the memories and in the realization that time really is passing so quickly.

And then, a picture like this pops up...

I remember this exact moment so vividly.  It was a moment in which time seemed to be at a standstill, a moment in which I either wanted to rewind or fast-forward... mostly, I just wanted to wake up from the nightmare that had become my everyday life.

When I took this picture, I had just finished a long run across the dam at Lake Murray, near where my parents live in South Carolina.  I remember trying to get through the run, stuck inside a body that, once strong, had crumbled as a result of my grief.  I had lost almost 40 pounds in four months.  My broken heart was like a disease that affected every other part of my body, and I was withering away.

I was frustrated with my weakness, and I sat at the rocks at the end of the dam and let my tears fall into the lake.

I can still smell the air, feel the humidity, taste the saltiness of my sweat, hear the constantly-anxious beating of my heart.  Remembering the pain that punctuated every moment of my life back then brings a knot to my throat and stinging tears to my eyes.

That me, from one year ago today?  I want to go sit beside her on that rock.  I want to hold her hand, squeeze it tightly, and let her know she's going to find her way through the wreckage.  I want to tell her to continue to Be Still, continue to be patient and strong and brave.  I want her to know I'm proud of her.  I want to beg her to not lose the hope she's fighting so hard to hold onto.

And I want to tell her that though she needs to live this moment, feel this heartbreak, accept this loss, cry these tears... I want to tell her that I promise that she will make it through to the other side of the pain, and that she will be better for it. 

So, I decided to do just that...
...

Dear One-Year-Ago Me,

I know you're scared.  I know your heart feels like it has been broken into a million tiny pieces that feel impossible to put back together.

I know the past four months have revealed to you things you never thought you'd see, hear, know, believe.

I know you're holding so tightly onto Jesus, but also struggling with your faith.

I know you feel like you'll never trust again, and you also feel like that's not fair to you.  I know you're angry, because you feel like the big, beautiful heart that God gave you will now always be scarred, is now forever changed.

I know you look into the beautiful faces of your three precious kids and it makes it all even harder to understand.

I know how you wake up each morning and open your eyes and immediately feel like you've been kicked in the stomach as soon as you remember everything.

I know how you go to bed each night dreading that moment in the morning when you'll first open your eyes.

And mostly, I know that you don't know what to do.

I wish I could tell you it'll all be okay.  But those words are too simple to explain the messiest, most complex journey you will go through now and for the rest of your life.

I wish I could tell you that, one day, you will be fully healed... emotionally, mentally, and physically. But healing is not a linear process, and neither is grief.

So I can only say that you need to let yourself grieve and heal in all the ways that feel right to you.  And let the emotions of each moment wash over you - the anger and the fear and the confusion and the distraught and the pain.  

Let each tear take some of the sadness out of your body.  

And then leave that moment, and move on to a new moment.

Each day, try to pick up another piece of your broken heart.  Maybe it'll fit back into place?  Maybe it doesn't anymore?  And if it doesn't... bury it, or tuck it away neatly in the last chapter, and turn the page.

What you are going through will never make sense.  It's not logical, there is no concrete equation for how to handle it... no handbook on what to do next.

What you feel starts each morning with that first, eyes-open-remembering-painful-breath, and then the feelings for that day end when you're finally able to fall back into your dreams at night.

What happens between the sun rising and your nighttime dreams will change each day... so give yourself grace.  Forgive yourself.  Keep forgiving him.  Let yourself take steps forward and take steps backward as you need to.  

Just keep taking steps.

Take care of yourself.  Love yourself. Be kind to yourself.

And just keep promising yourself that you will listen to your heart and listen to Jesus.

Keep listening to Jesus.

Because I promise you that soon you will hear Him so loud and clear that it will make your heart skip a beat.

You will be lying in Cameron's bed, praying -- being still -- and all of the memories and realizations of the past seven months will collide in a moment in which Jesus himself will finally tell your heart with both certainty and clarity where to go from that moment and how to move into the next moment.

And I promise you that if you ever question His message in the following days, weeks, and months... Jesus will continue to bring to light everything you need to know, hear, see, and understand to feel with complete conviction that you had no other choice.

One-Year-Ago Me... You can do hard things.  You've done the hardest thing already, because - somehow -  you got through that awful January day, and you're still fighting to live in the sunshine.

I know this will be hard to believe, because I know how shattered your insides feel as you sit on that rock by the lake... but in a year, you will be the best version of you that you've ever been.

You will be strong.

You will be brave.

You will be proud.

You will still stumble, but you will understand the stumbles and will learn from them.

You will be living life in a place of yes, finding the yellow in each and everyday.

You will have glimpses of hope in your heart that make you look forward to tomorrow, and you will have moments that sometimes feel too good to be true... <3

One-Year-Ago Me... Keep holding onto that hopeful heart that God gave you.  Keep holding onto that cheerful spirit.  Feel the sadness and feel the pain, but don't lose yourself in it all.

I don't know what our forever is going to look like, and I can't promise anything about how our life will end up.  But I can promise you that one year from this tear-filled, Be-Still moment by the lake... your heart will feel full and hopeful and happy... happier... maybe even the happiest it has ever felt in your entire life.

Love,
The Me Who Decided to Choose Joy