I know I am Enough

“You are not welcome here. You no longer have space. Your space is being filled with self-love, grace for my story, and new hope for a beautiful future–which you have no part of. Goodbye.”

I read the words I had written nights before. A letter to him, the one who hurt me and who has haunted me much in the past few months. I wrote him a goodbye letter realizing that I was still holding onto him; holding on to hope of him doing the right thing by me. The problem with this is that, in ways, I was still just tethered to the weight that once threatened my life; a longer chord to play with, but tethered nonetheless. I was enjoying trying to convince myself that this wasn’t the case but my raging emotions and insecurities, the war zones in my mind have proven otherwise. 

So I wrote. 

“Goodbye.”

~~~~~~~

Tonight I stood on the back of a ferry, staring out at the Pacific Ocean, heading away from a magnificent setting sun. I knew what needed to happen. I had known since this morning. The letter, him, the weight, the emotional brick wedged into my chest, it had to go. But when? Where? How?

We had met a kind couple from Virginia to sit with on the ferry “home.” We were in the middle of chatting about art and beauty when it hit me. He was still present, tucked away, folded begrudgingly in the depths of my purse. He had ventured with me through the pacific, to Canada, and was now threatening to continue the journey. My chest tightened the way it only does whenever you know you absolutely must do something that scares the living shit out of you. 

I rummaged through my bag, the tightening increasing as my hand discovered the thing I must let go of entirely.

I headed to the top deck where the sky–orange, golden, red, blue set ablaze–screamed, “you are not alone! I promise.”

I read my words. I turned up Katy Perry’s “By the Grace of God,” and I cried. I asked God how it was supposed to happen. I asked J to please leave. I asked God to let all of “this” mean something important.

I was hyper aware of the people surrounding me. In movies, in these climatic, tense moments, they don’t allow anyone else in the scene you know, but, alas, my life is not a movie. I wondered what they would think. Would someone yell at me for littering? Would they try to catch my fleeing pages?

I read the words becoming hyper aware of the speed of the boat. I panicked wondering if we were almost to the dock–all logic exiting my brain. Letting go of that letter, those two pages that I had bitterly smeared eyeliner on earlier simply because I had no tissues, suddenly became the most accurate, painful, and poetic metaphor of my life.

What will others think of me? What happens after this? What if losing this part of my identity means something scarier than it being replaced with goodness? This is comfortable…letting go is not. I’m used to this weight. I don’t like the shortness of breath it can cause but I no longer remember what it’s like without it. What if I don’t survive? What if I get chastised? What if I’m judged?

I couldn’t get my heart rate to slow and I couldn’t let my fingers release the grip on the pages. 

…somewhere within me I knew I only needed a little. Just a “mustard seed of faith”…and God would take care of the rest. I barely loosened my grip…just barely…and the wind snatched the pages right out of my fingers. There was no wind dance, no gentle flapping in the breeze. No, they went straight down into the churning waters below–as if they actually weighed as much as my emotional body felt they did. They never resurfaced. 

I sobbed. Katy Perry sang. The sun set. I cried some more. 

“Now every morning

There is no more mourning 

Oh I can finally see myself again

I know I am enough

Possible to be loved

It was not about me

Now I have to rise above

Let the universe call the bluff

Yeah the truth will set you free

By the grace of God (there was no other way)

I picked myself back up (I knew I had to stay)

I put one foot in front of the other and I

Looked in the mirror and decided to stay

Wasn’t gonna let love take me out that way…”

I listened to it over and over again like I have done so many times before. I continued to ask God, “how can I truly pray for the best for him but let go of wanting him to do right by me? Don’t they go hand in hand.” This being my biggest question and hardest reason for holding on.

Eventually…the sun disappeared. The only answer that surfaced was that I do not have to have all of the answers to let it go, to let him go. And it’s true. I want the answers but I do not need them to let go and move forward. 

So I cried…until the last lines of All Sons & Daughters, “Need A Reason” faded out…

“Your peace is the melody

You sing it over me now

I need a reason to sing

I need a reason to sing

I need to know that You’re still holding

The whole world in Your hands

That is a reason to sing.”

I lifted my eyes and the world hadn’t changed. There was no cloud parting, no miracles performed, in fact, my heart was still heavy. But it wasn’t the same. Changed…forever. And I am convinced that tomorrow it will feel lighter. And the next day even lighter. 

The past shapes us. But it does not have to definitively define us. We choose. There is no magic; there was no magic in my actions, just supremely raw, honest emotion. It had to begin with me. To continue lying to myself was not helping anyone.

So I let him go. I am certainly not of the disbelief that I am suddenly somehow completely healed. No, that would be a lie too. I simply am just a little closer to healing. 

I went back to the bottom of the ferry and was nudged to read my devotional for the day.

“You are created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for you to do. Maybe you thought at this point in your life you would be in a certain place or you had a dream you thought you would have accomplished by now, but something went wrong with your dream. When something goes wrong in your life and you get off track, allow God to remake you….”

I cried again. Thanks for that, God. I’m not great at surrendering…but I promise to continue trying.

It’s a new week. Happy Monday, beauties. Hope you find a lighter step and a freer heart this morning.

~~~~~~~

But LORD, you are our father. We are like clay, and you are the potter; your hands made us all. 
{Isaiah 64:8 NCV}