Life has become extraordinarily difficult lately, and I’m struggling.
Big time. With so many things.
I’m facing the greatest financial uncertainty and stress that I’ve ever faced, and things are about to implode.
And, the person who matters more to me than anyone else in this world is struggling so utterly deeply that it’s terrifying.
Those are the tangibles.
And then there are the intangibles – the internal struggles about what I’ve done with my life, the stands I have (and haven’t) taken, the fact that I can’t seem to do what I must to survive in this dog-eat-dog world.
I feel like the greatest goddamned failure.
I trust my intuition, my heart, my gut far more than I trust my intellect.
In their wake are far too many failed relationships to count, jobs that I desperately needed but didn’t apply for because my integrity screamed “NO!”, and time spent in a state of paralysis when my brain told me that I must hustle like I’ve never before hustled.
It’s been months since I’ve meditated consistently, and my yoga mat is collecting dust.
I’ve always had an inexplicable faith that things will work out, even when circumstances dictated otherwise.
I remember being homeless, jobless, and penniless during my activist days. My grandma’s old car ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere, and I had no food. And yet, things worked out. I didn’t starve. And that time, I wasn’t raped.
Things always worked out even when I didn’t have clue how they would or even could.
I remember my darkest hours when I obsessed over killing myself…when being alive was far more horrific than were the collective images of hell that had been seared into my mind by the church when I was a young child.
I never thought the dawn of a better, brighter day was possible during that decade of hell. And yet, it came.
And now, I’m back, wondering how things will work out.
Wondering why I can’t force myself to apply for the gig that will allow me to pay the bills.
Why I continue to cling to the fraying rope of faith…
…when the writing on the wall tells me that I’m fucked.
The struggle is real.
And despite this, my life is beautiful.
As I sipped my coffee this morning, I felt the cool fall air kiss my face.
I closed my eyes and felt an immense surge of gratitude to be alive, struggles and all.
My deepest struggles have taught me about unconditional compassion, kindness, love, and forgiveness.
My deepest struggles have brought forth tremendous gratitude. Gratitude for the lessons I needed to learn, no matter how painful.
So, today I’m struggling, and tomorrow I surely will be as well.
And yet despair hasn’t taken root in my spirit. The soil of faith is too strong.
For eventually, a new dawn will come.