Senior Year (Day Six): #TheStruggleIsReal

One night a few weeks ago, through sniffles and tears, a few of my family members told me that I would start sharing my story.

And this is me doing it.

I didn't believe them.

Me?! Do what?!? Are you serious?! You are kidding, right?!?  Okay, where is Ashton?!

It had been a long day. I had just finished making bread. I was covered in flour, my hair had gotten dough in it, chances are I probably smelled bad and I was tired. To be honest, I was not open about hearing the idea.

And then, my Aunt had to go and drop a truth bomb.

"There is still so much of your story that I don't know," she said.

And it was true! It hurt, and I didn't like it, but it was truth.

Most of who I was must have been a mystery to them. I was virtually unknown to the people who loved me the most. 

Major knife through the chest moment.

So this is me starting to share my story.

For anybody who cares enough to listen, this is for you.

Sometimes things happen that we don't understand. Sometimes, when you least expect it, life knocks your feet right out from under you. At times, life can be hard, and I know this is a simple truth.

And there are times when we must walk through fire- a fire that will scorch all the little pieces of you with its tongues, licking and burning parts you didn’t know you had. Sometimes the fire is that of candle, its hot, it burns, but it’s manageable. Though it is easily forgotten, it is still there, emitting an aura that cannot be denied. However, sometimes, you feel as if it is a forest fire. A barrier that is so strong, so big, so powerful, it is completely and utterly impossible to bypass; both an unstoppable force and an unmovable object. A fire that seeks to consume and destroy.

This is inevitable . It is guaranteed. You can't stop life from being hard.

And that is something that nobody ever told me about. This is a lesson I had to learn the hard way, the really hard way.

Over the past year, my time came.

A fire started.

It was slow. Working its way up my foundation to the inner parts of me, it was easy to ignore and easy to hide. But there came a point when the flames became too much, they burned, they spread, and it was no longer ignorable.

I took it all in silence, never saying a word; running around with a fire extinguisher, helping in the process of stopping the fires for others, while mine burned stronger than ever. But there comes a point where nerves are seared, and a throbbing numbness is forced into action. The death of sensitivity was the consequence for my silence.  Yet, I found that it was the very thing that helped me get through it, or so I thought.

My consequence came with a price, but it was my consequence that served as my protection. 

There came a point where I could no longer hide it. It consumed me, taking over every aspect of my life.

People started too notice. They asked if I was fine. I always assured them I was. I’m okay, I’d always say.

I wasn’t. I was really, really not okay. 

And because of this, I fell into a dark and deep state of depression.

I was surrounded by the heat radiating out from the flames that are the hard times of life, yet I had never felt such a chilling coldness running through my veins. I was engulfed in the light induced by fire, but blanketed with bleak darkness.

It was bad, y'all!

I can distinctly remember lying in bed most nights, wrapped up, my knees to my chin, wishing with everything in me that I would not wake up in the morning.

And getting through that time was hard- more difficult than I would have ever imagined. It is a hard battle to fight, especially when you do it completely alone.

I refused to be a burden. I refused to be weak.

But there comes a day when you can no longer be a victim. For that is the true burden. Staying curled up on my comfy victim couch was so easy, but so not worth it.

At some point, you must get up, confront your inner demons, walk across the room, and step through to freedom. But you have to do that despite everything. Despite the fact that it will be unpleasant, that it will be scary, that it's going to take effort.

If there is one thing I know, it is that growth begins at the end of your comfort zone.

The moment that I realized that everybody feels broken sometimes, that it's okay to not be okay, my life started changing.

I started being honest with my friends, no matter how ugly the truth was. They loved me through it all like the amazing people that they are and I thank them for that.

And I am thankful for this season of my life. Brokenness hurts and its hard putting all the little pieces of yourself back together, because you were never meant to do it on your own, the way I did.  But I would never take it back because it was necessary. It had to happen. This time has helped shape me into the person that I am morphing into. It was necessary to grieve parts of my life, and move on.

There were a lot of emotions, lots of pain, lots of tears and sadness, but with that came healing. I will always look back on these months as such a sweet time. They taught me to trust, to laugh a little more, to hug do much tighter, and be thankful for the people who stick with me. I will remember this time as such a sweet time of grieving.

It is a daily fight and struggle.  Some day’s it’s hard to be happy, to feel normal but then on other days I feel great. I have just learned to handle it, and ALL the unexpected things that life throws at me. I have learned to surround myself with only the supportive people. I have learned to not subject myself to the people, places, things, music, movies, thoughts, and actions that only add gasoline to my fire. I have learned that being open about struggling is okay.

Honesty is truth and the truth will set you free.

During our lives we must undergo unthinkably painful trials in order to grow into who we fully are. Everybody has these moments in their life. Walls are going to find us, no matter what our pathway through life may be and when this happens it is up to you to climb them. Climbing these walls is hard. You are going to struggle.  Sometimes you will want to give up, to give in, to let the ivy grow, blanketing  you with a scratchy protection. But then you will find a crack in the wall, light beaming through it, illuminating your face with hope, staining your skin with hope, bringing life to the shadow of your hollow cheekbones.  These cracks are our reminded that our struggle isn’t in vain, that it is worth it.

I like to think of it like a piece of clay being fired in a kiln. It starts off fragile and dull, but then it ends up stronger and more dazzling because of it. Colors you did except rise to its surface. I like to think that people are like that too. Because of the hard times, you are made beautiful.

And I may still may be broken, but I am healing. I am changing. I may be covered with blood and sweat, but at least I’m fighting. I may be scared and scorched in places, but it’s the proof of my story. I am seared and scratched, bruised, and swollen but I am growing. I am changing.

And that is what matters.  

I am learning to dance through the flames.