It has been over five years since my world crashed and in some ways, it feels like hundreds.
My timelines are skewed, my memories hazy or all too vivid, and my world has completely changed.
I have walked or crawled or cradled myself through hours of heartache, anger, hurt, bitterness, confusion, and loss. I have been trampled on, spit on, condemned, and hated.
I have been held, loved, prayed for and forgiven. I have received joys, gifts, kindness, grace, and I know now that my story is not finished.
You may read this, my story, and judge me. You may choose to hate me. To join the crowds of those who have stones in their hands to throw at me. You may condemn me. Go ahead. I don’t care.
Or you may read this, my story, and offer empathy. You may even choose to love me. To join the crowds of those who extend their arms out to me. You may hold me. Go ahead. You are welcome here.
All this because I now know that I am worthy. I am loved. I am enough.
This story does not define me.