Member-only story
After two years of nonstop transition, heartbreak, grief, hardships, but also a period of deep creativity, creation, and closeness with God, I hit a standstill. I call it the year of nothingness. A year of feeling empty, of giving up, a combination of numbing and despairing, just surviving in complacency.
That was 2019. To put a cherry on top, I ended the year with a succession of personal drunken failures. Failures that opened my eyes and woke me up again. It was as if the thoughts of productivity, fixing the broken things that losing one’s job, moving across the country with nothing, losing one’s job again multiple times, and accumulating a host of unpaid bills, taxes, and tooth appointments, felt like too much– things that I was thinking about a lot, but never moving on. Months and months went by and I thought about bills, writing, getting back into fitness, possibly committing to things, people, ministries, but I only took a trepidation of tiny steps, moving forward only to retreat back.
As I sit here in the wake of my complacency and my destruction, to think about a tiny step in any direction feels too hard. How many tiny steps are necessary? How many days? I feel at the end of waiting. I would rather take 1000 steps at once. That’s what I’m good at, I guess. Blowing things up with 1000 steps.
