Matthew 5:4 – “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”

It has been almost two months since I moved to North Carolina. Turns out, even if everything changes for you overnight, you can’t change everything overnight. I had this idealized vision of what my life would be like when I got here, of what my life would be like post-spiritual awakening. I was going to meditate every day (on my sweet little meditation pillows, no less), read the Bible every day, read lots of books, take lots of nature walks, do well in my online classes, talk to God all the time, continue my sobriety, and be this holy person. I was gonna be SUPER SPIRITUAL, man! I thought life would be way easier walking with a God I’d been denying for a long time, and that, somehow, I would be totally different. Well, imagine my shock when all of my feelings followed me here! Now, not only was I struggling with depression, I was struggling with it in a new place where I knew practically no one, where it felt like my support system had evaporated. I left my job — left my friends — left the life I’d spent the last eight years so carefully crafting. I sold everything, left everything, and tried to start over. I moved in with my mom and two teenage kids after being independent for so long. I went from having my own two bedroom apartment to living out of boxes and not even having my own bed (finally in the works, thank God). I KNEW before I came out here that the job market was not nearly as abundant as Phoenix. I KNEW before I came out here my mom lived in the country. I KNEW my life would be different, but knowledge and experience are two very different creatures.

The reality of my situation hit me like a sledgehammer once I finally got here. It’s ten miles to the closest grocery store — no more fifteen minute bike rides to downtown for me! The closest “big” city (Raleigh) is an hour away and 60% of people living there have a four-year degree while I am struggling to complete a two-year. Living with my family again has been a challenge (one we are working through). I feel so trapped sometimes; I’ve had so much regret. My new life is not playing out here like I planned, like I dreamed. For the first month, I cried every day. I’m crying writing this. MY HEART IS SO BROKEN, Y’ALL. I’ve spent a lot of time here reflecting on my past, mourning for what was and what never will be. I’ve combed back through old Facebook posts, wondering what happened to that girl I used to be. Then, I got mad – really just mad at myself for the situation I’m in, but I took it out on God. I was looking for anyone to blame but myself, and the truth is, I’m responsible for where I’m at in life right now. You know what, though? It’s OKAY. I’ve led a pretty charmed life. I’ve known so much happiness and sunshine and joy and laughter and fun. Those times will come again. I am allowed to grieve, but it is time for me to stop wallowing in it.

I’ve been fighting the changes happening, fighting tooth and nail to hold onto shreds of the life I had before and it. JUST. AIN’T. WORKING. I stuck my head in the mud and refused to accept my new reality. I stuffed all my feelings in my face, put on a few pounds, had a few drinks, and more than a few pity parties. I haven’t reached out to many friends. I’ve been holding onto my pride for dear life. It is time for me to let it go. I need to let it ALL go. Finding humility is a hard thing to do; sharing this with the world is a hard thing to do. I’ve been trying to run from my pain, bury it, drown it, hide it, anything but deal with it. I haven’t written because I was ashamed. I am not my best self right now, but I will be. I am moving forward, slowly but surely. One step at a time. One breath at a time. I’m trying to remember that healing is a process. I’m learning to lean on God and breathe through the pain, even when it feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. My light may feel dim right now, but I’m trying to fuel the spark the right way, starting right here. Right now. Real. Raw. This is my sacred space to share what I’m going through. Let’s get personal, y’all.