I can finally breathe again

I just don’t have words. I sit here trying to compose something. Anything. And it feels like my voice is gone.

I’ve sat in this uncomfortable space for almost a year now.

This space of trying to move forward with faint faith and trying so hard to make space for hope in my heart again.

I had a thought today about caterpillars.

Because last year, I felt like a one.

Awkward, clumsy, bumbling around with a gaping appetite— eating everything to satisfy the relentless hunger pangs of growth (or in my case, grief).

Immersed in that new world— reading everything on grief, taking in all the new experiences, learning how to navigate big feelings, feeling things I’ve never felt before, making new connections and friendships, digesting, processing, and always, always looking ahead for the next leaf.

And I was fairly happy or at least content in that stage. Because all I had to do was eat— feel my feelings and absorb all the grief.

And then things got uncomfortable. Like my insides no longer matched my outside. Like I’d eaten too much and my skin was now too small for all the big things I held inside. Nothing satisfied anymore. I couldn’t find the words to explain anymore. And I just wanted to isolate.

I didn’t want to talk about her or the hard things anymore. I just wanted to shut it all out, and I wanted to forget.

I withdrew.

I wasn’t reaching anymore— just motionless. And things got really dark. I wasn’t hungry for anything anymore because I knew exactly how bitter grief, loss, and disappointment tasted in my life and I didn’t need to explore anymore of it. And slowly the walls came up.

And I thought— ”A caterpillar probably doesn’t know why she does that either. Maybe it’s a strange and confusing time for her too. One days she’s crawling around and the next motionless in a cocoon— maybe she even thinks this is surely the end.”

But it’s a part of her life cycle. The cocoon is a part of change— a part of grief— and the cocoon has a purpose.

And for the first time in a long time— I think I’m starting to outgrow the confines of my cocoon. I’m starting to recognize that there is a world of light waiting on the outside.

And I don’t want to crawl like the caterpillar or hide in the cocoon anymore. I want to unfold my wings and I want to believe in hope again.

There are changes happening.

And peace is coming back into my life.

That last line carries so much weight. To feel peace after so much dark for so much is everything.

I sat and listened to this song tonight and felt like if I were to open my soul, this is what it would sound like.

“I found You in the river

I found You in suffering

And I found You on the mountain

You were always around me.”

”And I can finally breathe again.”