in my darkness there have been many cracks of light. To Write Love on Her Arms introduced the idea that I was not alone. that we can make it out of the darkness, hand in hand.
we so often talk a big game about inclusion,
and manage to find a way out of it every. time.
it gets difficult to love.
this means one in every five humans you meet have or will experience mental illness. 1 in 25, or 10 million Americans, live with a serious mental illness.
there are no words in the moment.
the moment you are pulled out from the car,
you cannot convey what your brain is saying.
we do not use words. we hold one another.
this year i was at my highest high.
and i found my lowest low.
as a hiker, i know that flow all too well.
the last six months have been what we call “recovery.”
it seems like a lifetime ago; this time last year, huh?
i was filled with hope and magic surrounded me.
invincibility seemed like normalcy and superman asked me for advice.
seasons changed and summer brought a winter i knew all too well.
my brain was my biggest enemy. i was surrounded by smoke and mirrors.
i started treatment. hard, painful, extensive, meticulous.
all words associated with growth.
i also found my freedom.
all my flowers grew back as thorns
i had to find myself and recreate the parts of me too shattered to come back.
i left no pieces behind. most of me is a mosaic of everything i’ve been through.
and aren’t we all like that?
the good, the bad, the remarkable;
every story we have is one we own.
every day there is a midnight.
tonight is the biggest midnight of the year.
the one where we feel the hope and dreams.
fear is nowhere to be found.
we all are superman on new year’s eve.
and maybe there is something true in the hype.
in the fireworks. in the magic.
six months ago i almost ended the possibility of midnight.
i would’ve never seen my nephew’s sweet smile.
and i would have never known i could love someone so much.
i would’ve missed out on rekindled friendships.
and life changing humans.
i never would’ve felt what it was like to take a billiard ball to the nose.
i almost missed reputation.
i never would’ve seen the talent in my sister’s photos.
with the help of many, i chose to stay.
at first i didn’t realize why.
and slowly i have realized that every story is important.
including my own. including yours.
against all odds, hope became real.
midnight puts magic in the air.
and with every breath we can dream something new.
as long as we are dreaming, we have something to hope for.
midnight makes it possible.
to hold on.
to let go.
to leave it behind.
to start again.
and i am here to say:
that what is true for me, is also true for you.
maybe tonight is the night you begin the story of your recovery.
change doesn’t just happen in a moment.
but it starts with a decision.
and that it something to celebrate.
that is a reason for the fireworks.
welcome to midnight.
i spent seven days in a mental hospital. my therapist wasn’t sure i’d make it to the next appointment, let alone the next two hours…it was all very serious, but all i could think about was how much i just wanted a sandwich.
if you want to be fully you,
all of your pieces must be present.
i’m here to say they are welcome here.