Hello, Life.
If you were a person, I would describe you as a bipolar, multiple-personality, inconsistent, sour patch kid, first sour, then sweet. And yet, despite everything, I greet you with kindness and understanding. I thank you for the beauty you have given me, and I forgive you for the pain and fear you have caused.
Because you have taken everything from me. Yet, you have given me so much.
You have stripped me down to my rawest core. You have broken me, shattered me, and left me questioning everything. You forced me to confront a reality I never wanted to face. One I never asked for. And worst of all, you showed me that I could not control how my loved ones handled it either. I spent so much time resisting, trying to fix the unfixable, trying to fight back against you. And for what? To avoid the truth?
The truth is, there was a time I was so angry with you, Life. I felt like a victim to my own existence. I screamed, HOW could this be happening to me? To my children? My Husband? After everything we had endured, after all those years of clinging to the hope that “someday it will get better,” you hit me with a terminal diagnosis. Of course, I was angry. I was furious! And that fury seeped into everything around me. I blamed my doctors, my body, my circumstances. But most of all, I blamed myself. I felt deep regret for the time and money I spent trying to cure something rather than simply living. For “helping” others facing the same monster, who didn’t make it. And the worst part? Every friend I lost to this disease felt like another gut punch from you, another cruel reminder that despite all of our efforts, you always win.
I even resented kindness. Encouragement felt like false hope. Advice felt like an insult. As if people didn’t understand I was already doing everything I could. That my effort to live was not enough. I was drowning in my own anger, and I didn’t even realize that the person I was punishing the most was myself.
But then, something shifted.
I don’t know the exact moment I stopped resisting you and started embracing you. Maybe it was when I finally saw myself through a lens of kindness instead of criticism. Maybe it was when I stopped focusing on how far I had to go and instead honored how far I had already come. Maybe it was when I realized I wasn’t really living at all. Yet, I knew I had to go through this journey for myself. I had to come face to face with it, and no one could save me.
I had spent so much time trying to find meaning in my life because it was now limited, that I forgot to simply live it. And so, I chose to stop being a victim to you.
I started healing, not just physically, but emotionally. I stepped away from distractions and started listening to audiobooks, journaling, meditating, and prioritizing my relationships. I started to eat well again and moved my body, not in a desperate attempt to fix something, but because I deserved to feel good. I chose to be present instead of just existing. I allowed myself to grieve, my past, my losses, my marriage, my years spent in survival mode. And I finally learned the value of boundaries, something I had never truly understood before.
Now, I see acceptance differently. I no longer try to control you, Life. Instead, I focus only on what I can control, what I put into my body, how I move, who I let into my heart, and where I direct my energy. I can’t control the outcome, but I can control how I live.
Still, I am learning. This is not something that happens overnight, it is an everyday, conscious battle. Some days are harder than others, but I am willing and ready to face them. I choose to keep moving forward, even when it feels like a struggle. Healing is not a destination; it is a practice, and I am committed to showing up for myself every single day.
So, for all the pain, the loss, and the uncertainty, I still thank you.
I thank you for guiding me to the next reflection, every single time. I thank you for the people you’ve placed in my world who make life worth fighting for. And I thank you for showing me that after everything, it really can get better again. There is beauty after the smoke clears. And even now, I continue to grow.
I choose, today and every day, to be present.
Crystal
Letters To Life 