As I stare out at the gliding snowflakes, I am drawn into my memories of the past year and half.
It wasn’t that long ago that I launched out away from Kansas City on a journey of semi self-care and part self-imposed exile. Though I had done nothing wrong, I felt as though I had failed the world. Emotionally I had derailed and found myself mourning the loss of those who had abandoned me while simultaneously isolating from anyone who hadn’t.
I drifted in and out of darkness stumbling through bottles, porn sites, a psych ward, and a dozen unhealthy attempts to self-medicate.
I think I needed to get lost so that I could realize that I was going the wrong way. I needed to stumble to the floor to realize that I wasn’t walking quite right.
I am by no means proud of my choices. As a former mentor/spiritual guide, I’d much rather save face and keep all of this to myself; to hide away behind a bottle of scotch and never tell a soul. But to hold on to my pride would be to drown in something far worse that addiction: silent, poisonous shame.
Thankfully, I was blessed with unrelenting friends and just enough willpower to rise up out of my shit once again. When I gave myself over to drinking, isolation, and self hatred God blessed me with a community of people who loved me enough to drop the cliche, “Christian” responses to love me as Christ loves.
Just as I am.
Despite my volatile nature, bitterness, and downtrodden spirit; even though everything that I had had to offer as friend had all but vanished and I was lost in confusion and turmoil, I am still loved.
Now, I’ve returned to Kansas City to continue my journey of self acceptance and to grow even deeper in my understanding of God and His love for me. And with that I’m reminded of the beloved words that Alfred told Bruce. “Why do we fall Master Wayne? So we can learn to pick ourselves up.”