I Kept Walking

The Last 6 years.

You could ask my closest friends how I’ve changed over the years and they would tell you that I am day and night different. Sometimes the change happened monthly, sometimes yearly, but it happened.

My friends chose to stand by my side and never lose sight of who I was as my ability to see myself went in and out for years. They held onto the truth of who I was and kept it safe until I was ready to carry it myself.

They’re my three.

I moved in and out of codepenency, unhealthy pressures, toxic reactions, isolation, pushing them away and leaning on them heavy. I don’t want you to get the impression that any three of these friendships were easy, or that it was easy for them to walk through this process with me. Closely, and at times, at a distance.

They kept holding and I kept walking.

I quit my job, my car was totaled, and I was sleeping on a friends couch because I didn’t have a place of my own. I was depressed and anxious and I didn’t understand why things seemed so hard. 

I met two of my three.

I kept walking.

I realized how toxic and abusive my family was and in and attempt at distancing myself, my sisters verbally abused me and, amongst many things, told me I was a piece of shit that I wasn’t a part of the family anymore. 

I kept walking.

I moved to Ohio to try to be with friends and happy people. I just felt out of place because I wasn’t happy, and I seemed to always feel the opposite of how they always felt. I couldn’t seem to find a home, and I felt like an emotional alien who always made everyone else uncomfortable.

But little did I know, one of my three lived right across the street from me, and her love and friendship would change more than I could see.

I kept walking.

I moved back to Colorado, got a job, fell in love with one of my three and developed deep codependency with another. I made a number of friends and lost most of them because I couldn’t let them in. I was still very sad, I didn’t understand what was wrong with me.

I kept walking.

I told him I had feelings for him, that I loved him, he didn’t feel the same way. I was separated from one of my three, and I didn’t know if it would be for a time or for forever—it was all dependent upon how my heart healed from this rejection.

“Take however much time you need, I’m here whenever you’re ready. I don’t want to lose you, but if I have to for you to be ok, then I will.”

I kept walking.

Unhealthy codependency came to a head and I was separated from another of my three. The third of the three was states away. Life hit so hard that I didn’t want to be here anymore. I was stuck, I was depressed, I was alone. I was mad at God.

I kept walking.

I got promoted at work. I was reunited with one of the three and still brutally heartbroken over the other. Things were better, but still so messy. 

I kept walking.

On my birthday my mom told me she wished my heart was bigger so that I could love them more. 

I tried to heal and get over my heartbreak with other men, but it didn’t work.

I kept walking.

My friendship with the one I was heartbroken over was restored. One of the other three was losing himself. 

My dad almost took his own life over Christmas.

I kept walking.

I changed my number and sent my family a letter. I got rid of everything I owned from them.

I started therapy after one of the three and her husband gave me the money to. 

I got a new job. I started writing again. One of the three moved away.

I kept walking.

2020 started.

I kept walking.

I started making my bed every day. I cried and grieved a lot. I read Glennon Doyle’s Untamed. I read more. I stopped writing.

I kept walking.

I tried online dating. Pandemic dating was a mess, I deleted the apps. 

I kept walking.

I started yoga. I started painting and drawing again. I watched too much t.v.

I kept walking.

Therapy. Therapy. Therapy. It’s not the easy way out, but I started healing from things I never even thought I’d say out loud.

I kept walking.

Trauma memories surface more. I was lonely and hurting and scared.

I kept walking.

I started writing again, more healing came. More friends came. More isolation and fear. 

I kept walking.

I kept walking.

I kept walking.

I started this website and started sharing my work and my story. I felt lonelier than ever.

I kept walking.

People have told me so many times how strong I am, people who know my story and those who don’t. I didn’t ever truly consider myself strong until just recently.

I had begun to feel weaker than I had ever felt. Lonelier than ever. Questioning if the choice for myself over my family was worth it—why couldn’t I just make it work? Everything hurt, even the good.

And then I wrote this about strength.

It’s what I always defined it as but it isn’t what I expected

I imagined forgiveness without fear

Healing without pain

Trusting easily, no more doubt

I imagined no more anxiety, depression, or loneliness

I imagined less crying

I imagined feeling everything, and it somehow being less painful

I thought I would feel less being strong, not more

I was wrong

Strength is forgiveness in the midst of fear

Strength is painful healing

Strength is active trust no matter the doubt

Strength is not running from what you’re feeling inside and not controlling it

Strength is hurting

Strength is knowing that not everything needs to be fixed, but it does need to be felt

Strength is saying, “What’s next?” and “What now?” And having the courage to find out

Strength is grieving

Strength is groaning

Strength is crying

Strength is choosing love

Strength is choosing hope

Strength is choosing to believe

Strength is faith

I was naive

Strength has humbled me

I think only now could I being to understand what it means that when you are weak, you are strong.

I think people saw the strength in me to keep going, and honestly, that may have been all I had but it is what saved me.

To keep walking means to choose the good and the bad of what’s to come. 

Strength is being human in it all and being open to more.

I kept walking and the harvest came. I walked long enough to find the Lillies and when I did, my three freely handed over the parts of that they kept safe the entire time. The Lillies I found, were those parts of me.

The harvest? It’s me being able to hold those parts of me and live among the Lillies.

With love,

Sarah