Revelations 12:11 And they overcame by the blood of the lamb and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their life unto the death.

Today marks week 8 of writing grief letters. If you’re new here, go back to week 1 to find out why I am writing them. Since today marks 2 months of me writing grief letters, I figured it’s a good time to reflect on my grief journey so far. So, today’s article reflects this grief journey and healing.

I think having to grieve as I write is the hardest thing. I truly thought I could write these letters  with little to no heaviness or grief. I thought I could just release it and not feel the grief I am writing about. It’s crazy, I know. But I did not think I would grieve as much as I have. A lot of these letters I am not new too but something about sharing it with the world feels a bit new. Like the Bible says, “we will overcome by the blood of the lamb and the word of our testimony. I’ve also learned you cannot heal from what you won’t reveal! Revealing these testimonies make me feel raw, open, and very out of my element. I feel as I write, something deep inside of me is shifting. I am not sure what that shift is yet. However, it is causing a cocktail of emotions, I wasn’t ready for.

At this point in my grief journey, I have written about all the things that I know that grieve me on the surface from being single to church hurt. These are all things that hurt still and that I know exist. But what has come up this week was not what I expected.

This week, I was overwhelmed with images of my childhood that weren’t so pleasant but had a profound effect on me. I wept at the image of a father supporting his daughter. I wept because I wish I knew what that felt like. I thought about how I was bullied in middle school and how that affected the way that I see myself even still. And so many other images I will share on other posts. But I felt this one experience shaped a large part of who I consider myself to be: a people person.

This past week, I sat and wept in my bathroom. The why I wept was for another time. However, where I chose to weep was very odd to me. I wept in my bathroom sitting on the floor. Why not my room? And as I sat there, I remembered why bathrooms have often been a safe space for me. There was a time when I had a 45-minute commute from home to school. I went to church where I lived, but I wasn’t as close to the people there as I was with the middle school and high school people. Every Wednesday, my mom would drop me off to bible study alone. It was quite intimidating to walk into a room full of people not knowing a single soul. People knew of me but weren’t really my friends. So, I would wait alone before the service would start. To calm my fears of awkwardly standing alone, I would go to the bathroom and stay there until the sermon started. I always felt safe there. By myself, I would breathe and create a safe space for me to just be me. I didn’t have to “try” and fit in or read the room which I learned how to do. Many people who know me now assume I am an extrovert; like I was born with a knack for people. But I was a very shy and quiet kid. And while many would feel it sacrilege for me to call myself an introvert, I do consider myself one. My people skills are very much learned and practiced. I never wanted people to feel as lonely as I often did. I wish I would have had someone interested enough to ask me questions. I wish I could have had someone care to make themselves uncomfortable for me and say hello. I think a lot of how I am with people, is because it’s what I wanted. You don’t realize how people will usually keep the convo going if you ask questions about them or something they like. If you find commonality, even the smallest thing to connect with them, that makes a world of difference. I’ve learned over the years that once someone feels accepted around you, especially after they admit something they assume is weird or awkward, they tend to like you because of that. I learned this week a big part of me was birthed out of my own times of loneliness. And what do you do when you realize a part of your identity is something birthed out of a tough place? Who would I be if it wasn’t for these lonely moments? Who would I be if I didn’t have these experiences that give me a sense of empathy for those who are lonely?

I am not sure I have the answers to these questions. I would have loved to not have to feel loneliness at all. But it reminded me of why I felt God led me to write. In week 1’s grief letter, I shared a line in my poem called, “Me.” 

 It says:

What if deep love lies in the loneliest  thing? 

Only to be discovered where the hurt runs deep,

Steeped in grief

Transformed by its release

So, what if feeling lonely enhanced my ability to love? What if the experience of feeling alone made me give love more fully and richly? How is it, that this painful experience,increased my ability to empathize with the lonely? What if these painful experiences in my life were never to keep me lonely, but to learn what love means?