I'm sorry to those I worried. I'm okay. Or at least a version of okay.
It's like I imagine a near knock-out in a title fight. You've been hit, but you keep fighting. You're blindsided, but you take the punch and come back for more. You keep swinging, knowing that no matter how much it stings, no matter how cut up you are, you have to keep going.
And then it comes. That punch to the gut. That hit that drives the air from your lungs, and you begin falling in slow motion towards the mat. You see it happening. You can't stop it. And while you know more than anything that you are strong enough to stay on your feet, life has other plans.
So you fall. And you hit that floor hard. And you lay there stunned.
And in the back of your mind, you hear that countdown begin. And you're tempted to pass out into peacefulness and let that countdown end.
But you don't. Because you know you can't. And you know you won't. You just have to rest just a moment more, then you'll get back up.
And you do.
If you wonder why I write, it is because it is my art. It is where my heart and my hands come together to create. You may wonder why I write to YOU. It is because someday, somewhere, you will stand in my shoes, just as I have stood in yours. We all suffer. We all break. We get that call. We watch the ones we love start to drown in their own humanity. Or we begin to drown in our own.
I write because I have survived. I have survived my own humanity and the humanity of the ones I love. I write because I can still see the sunshine - most days. I write because I learned that on the darkest of days, I can still thank God for feet that keep me standing.
We all fall. We all lose our breath. He picks us back up through the hearts and hands of those who love us. It's okay to rest in the dark. Love can handle the dark.
Love,
Jennifer
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