an honest recap.

One year ago I was on my way out the door to this apartment for the very last time, my home and safe haven for years. With a racing heart and teary, tired eyes I asked Dom to take a photo before we headed to the airport. 

I knew on days like this, I would want it.

My goodness, this year was awful. 
And it was wonderful. It was the best and the worst all twisted and tangled. 

I have learned this year that risk taking is far from glamorous, but even through the pain and the mess, it is so entirely worth it to follow your gut. It will cost you, be it a little or a lot, but it is worth it. 

I had my brave days this year, sure, but they were far and few in between. In reality, I spent day after day out of my comfort zone, looking fear in the face, wrecked with anxiety and shaking in the knees. 

There were times of relishing in my new found independence, most definitely! But beginning at zero with everyone and everything, in a brand new place, it was (still is) more vulnerable than I expected. So much time was wasted in isolation, feeling completely alone and burnt out.

I wanted to take this year by the reigns and give it my best shot, but no matter how much I succeeded (be it in getting a job I love, learning how to manage finances, making new friends, etc), I couldn't shake feeling like a complete failure. All I saw was the list of things I set out to do, and how many of them were still dreams and ideals. 

In hindsight, I see the anxiety, the burn out and the sense of failure came from putting far too much pressure on myself. It came from buying into a lot of nasty lies. I didn't talk about it because I was afraid honesty would sound like complaint, and besides, I had chosen to do this. I was determined to make this move worth what I had given up to be in Portland. Worth leaving my friends, my community, my family and so many other opportunities for. 

With many missed expectations and dreams appearing improbable, I slowly and subconsciously began to believe the big ugly lie that I had failed and I am nothing but a disappointment.

But praise God (for real) the story doesn't end there.

Eventually, right after my 26th birthday, I had enough. I was exhausted, embarrassed, and .. exhuasted. Whatever I was doing (read: ignoring all of my emotions), it wasn't working. I remember one morning I woke up around 6am for work. Before a single thought entered my mind I immediately burst into tears, and that scared me. I didn't pray anything fancy. I just looked at Jesus, a familiar and comforting friend, and gave up control. I was done. 

Over the last six weeks or so, I have found time to step back, to heal and to see truth for truth and lies for lies. Though I am very aware of my shortcomings, I am more importantly so aware of who my God is and my absolute need for Him. Those exact words have left my mouth before, but man, He continues to teach and lavish me in extravagant grace and I will continue to sing His praises. 

He has taken my shame, taken the weight I have carried for far too many months, and replaced it with the ability to rest.

It is He who revives my heart, no matter it's state. It is He who reminds me to be thankful that I am who I am, and for this beautiful story I have been given to co-write and navigate.

Today, I celebrate this last year for what it was and grow giddy with excitement for the next. 

There is no promise that it will be easy, but with hope in Him (not in circumstances), it is promised to be good!

And with that I move forward.