To Overcome

There has to be a way to overcome.
There has to be a way to get away from the thought process.
There has to be a way to feel better.
There just has to be a way but you just can’t find it—
and since you can’t find it, you can’t believe it.
Right?

When you feel sick with a cold or the flu or when someone is diagnosed with a disease or a leg breaks, at least, this can be explained.
At least, the feelings make sense.

When it comes to emotions —
when it comes to frustration —
when it comes to confusion, betrayal —
when it comes to fears, pain, and insecurity —
when it comes to thinking too much —
feeling too much —
when it comes to feeling that disconnected feeling
as if everything is out of your reach
and you know what you want
you can see it
but you can’t touch it. . .

When everything weighs on you —
all you can do is wait for the next thing to happen
when it comes to feeling down —
or when you feel like you’ve been knocked to the ground and the idea of getting back up again is too much because you don’t have the strength to fight back anymore —

When it seems like everything weighs on you —
you’re overwhelmed because you said the wrong thing or you did the wrong thing —
you’re embarrassed and humiliated —
you’re ashamed and you’re afraid to be exposed —
there’s just too much —
and that’s it; there’s way too much going on at once.

You’re down but you don’t feel like you can get up again.
You can’t do another comeback. You just don’t have it in you. 
You can’t fight anymore
You don’t want to argue anymore —
more than anything you just want to feel whole again.

You want the weight to lift.
You want it all to just go away so you can breathe again
so you can feel okay again
that’s it, just to be okay would be good enough because anything is better than the math that adds up in your head.

There has to be a way to feel better.
But you can’t see it. And if you can’t see it then you can’t believe it.

You want to step away. You want to get away but you can’t.
You want to run.
You want to be free.
You want to feel the wind on your face and then there’s that great big, “Ahh,” of nothingness and the rest is silence.
I get it —

When it comes to the thought process, one thing leads to another. Each thought is like an explosive tripwire, and you, you are like a soldier weaving behind enemy lines and trying to avoid the explosion.
Each thought gives you away. Each thought betrays you.
It hurts. That’s right.
It literally hurts.

You sit there and you think to yourself
you wonder if anything is really worth it.
You come to the conclusion that you just can’t do it anymore.
Even if you talk to someone, fine, but you’re only fine for the moment.
But what do we do about later?
What about the smile when the smile goes away?
What do we do then?

How do we live when getting out of bed is the hardest thing to do?

There has to be a way to feel better
but we just can’t see it —
and since we can’t see it, we can’t believe it.

The idea of faith is believing in something without proof.
And we need proof, right?
We need something,

I have proof for you,
I can give you facts:

The fact that you made it this far says something about you.
The fact that you’ve fallen before means that you’ve gotten up.
This means you can do it again.

The problem with depression and suicide is we believe the lies in our head, which tell us, “We just can’t do it.” The problem with depression is we lose our self-worth. We lose our sense of purpose. We believe the worst and we think the worst; therefore, we expect the worst.
The problem with depression is the desperate lonesomeness, which leads us to believe, no one else in the world gets it; nobody has to endure this, and everyone else is fine.

I have news for you; no one gets through life without pain.
No one survives without damage.
No one lives without heartache.
Life happens to everybody.
Just because you don’t see it or hear about it, trust me, everyone goes through rough times. They just might not be as honest about it as you or me.

Into each life a little rain must fall.
But I get it, it’s storming now.
The clouds are too thick and the rain won’t seem to let up.

You start to think about when —
when are things going to get better
when is it my turn —

I once met a little boy. He smiled at me.
We were waiting to take a picture in Disney World. 
His smile was unlike any other.
He was so happy. He was without any question the most beautiful little boy in the world.
This child had never hurt anyone’s feelings. He probably never said a bad word a day in his life.
He was just a boy — perfect and simple.

I was with my daughter and her mother. We had been waiting in line for nearly an hour. And to wait for an hour with a two year-old girl is not a fun trick to pull off.

Somehow, there was a mix up with the computers. Our pictures never came up. As a courtesy and a symbol of Disney hospitality, we were granted access to the V.I.P room to have our pictures taken again.
We cut the lines of people waiting to have their pictures taken with Mickey and his crew.

We saw Minnie and Mickey. We saw Goofy. 
We saw Winner the Pooh and Tigger.
We were waiting for the princesses.
This line was the longest line of them all but we were right there, up in front.
There was Cinderella, there was Mulan, and there was Belle, and Snow White.

As we waited for our picture to be taken I spoke to the Mom of this little boy.
I explained why we were able to cut the line. I told them about the lines we waited on before.
I was partly complaining and partly joking.
I was partly sarcastic and partly grateful.

The woman advised me that she and her son do not wait on any lines at any of the Disney parks.

Again, partly joking and partly sarcastic, I was partly fed up with a trip that had gone wrong.
But hey, at least, I saw my daughter enjoy the characters at Disney.
I asked the Mom why she didn’t have to wait on lines.
Then I offered to hang out with her for the rest of the day.

She looked at my with an expression my mind will never forget.
Partly grateful and partly sad, partly happy and partly crying with the bluest eyes ever, the Mom pointed to her beautiful little boy, who was perhaps the most perfect little boy ever.
She said to me, “Because it was his dream wish to come to Disney.”

That little boy was dying and all he wanted to be was alive.
And here we are, living, and we are not sure why —

I owe that little boy.
He saved me in more ways than I can explain in just one chapter.
I promised to repay him.
And for me, if this is enough to keep me from quitting . . .
then so be it.

I learned that I need something to help me.
We all do.
I need a reason.
I need a purpose.

Everyone does
and so do you.

My life changed the day I stopped looking for answers.
My life happened the day I started to look for my purpose.
I learned that my propose belonged to me.
This has nothing to do with anyone else.
This is all up to me.

This is freedom:
to realize that my life is mine and not hinged upon anyone else’s
I became free the day I learned that although I will hurt and yes I will go through rough times, I will also lose, but none of my losses or any of my mistakes will ever have the right to define me or who I am.

Above all,
I learned that we make mistakes.
Mistakes don’t make us.

My life changed the day I decided to see what I could do for me.
Instead of looking for answers I started to look for my self-worth.
I had to find my sense of self-importance.
I still have rough days. I live with anxiety. I live with depression. I have losses. I have hard times. But I also have the ability to endure.
I know I do.
You do too.

I still get knocked down sometimes.
I just choose not to stay down too long because the longer I lay down, the longer it will take me to get back up.

We have to find something to look forward to.
Period.
End of sentence.

This is what saved my life.
And maybe . . .
It can save yours too.