I have no idea why hard paths have curves that keep right on coming, making it hard to hold onto the hope of a finish line. I also have no idea why we’ve decided that mustering up the courage to go it alone is stronger somehow.
What I have learned is that the courageous part is actually in the admission that we need help, that we just don’t have it all together (though everybody else sure seems to), and that walking it alone is not going so well for us.
Because you know what’s awesome? Throwing our hands in the air in surrender. Dropping to our knees in prayer. Planting our booties in a therapist’s office. Ditching all that surface-y politeness that keeps us at arm’s length. Cutting streaks of skimming small talk that leave us lonely. Dousing ourselves with a grace that lets us really need people. Saying yes to friends who want to enter in to hold our arms up, who let us ask the awkward, honest questions, and help us laugh in the face of it all.
There’s not an ounce of shame in admitting that sadness, anger, anxiety, doubt, or shame are photobombing your happiness.
The courage is in the surrender. It is vulnerability that is the connector and the brave way to more. And that kind of more is there for the taking.
What a beautiful relief.