Lovely in the Dark

I am a saver.

I tried to save my marriage.

I tried to save my former husband.

I tried to save my little family we created.

I tried to save the image and dream I thought I wanted for my life.

I tried by loving fiercely. Living in fear. Controlled by insecurities. Tightening the hold around me.

I tried saving everything around me.

But myself.

Maybe it is because I believed if by saving everyone and everything else, I would find the deep, joyful life I was searching for.

I looked for my happiness in outside objects and people. I compared every element with my life with others. I made excuses on why it just wasn’t working. I was clueless. Not understanding why my saving was not achieving the results I craved.

My wake up call came. Slapping me hard in the face.

I cannot save my loved ones.

But I can love them, support them, guide them, extend wisdom and forgiveness, pray for them. I can hurt for them, cry for them, watch from afar or next to them.

I cannot save my relationship with another person. 

But if that person wants to save it with me, then yes, we can work, grow, and change. Moving on to something worth fighting for.

I cannot save what was. 

But I can mourn and cherish what was lost and turn towards what is. Dreams change. Life takes unexpected turns. New hope slowly forms.

It has taken me a bit of time to understand this concept. The whole saving thing. My therapist likes to call it my martyr syndrome. Me trying to save the world. Yet, the world doesn’t want me to. I don’t even try to save myself. Why? Because if I fail, the only one to blame is me.

I am the only one.

My medication can’t save me.

It works hard to keep my disease at bay. Calming the irrational thoughts and actions. Yet, my antidepressant doesn’t work unless I take it. Every morning. At the same time. Never missing a day.

My therapist can’t save me.

She supports me. Comforts me. Guides me. But she cannot do a damn thing, if I don’t show up. I have to come to her office, sit on that couch, and speak. Be vulnerable. Be honest. Confessing my struggles and accepting my strengths.

My friends and family can’t save me.

They love me, show up for me, extend a helping hand. However, if I don’t do the same for them, if I don’t allow them into my life, if I don’t take the first step towards friendship, nothing happens.

My Jesus can’t save me.

Whoa whoa whoa Katie. Back this train up. Jesus saves, bro. Yes. He does. I know this. Only if I allow Him too. I have to want Him to save me. I have to fall down on my knees to His feet at the cross and beg Him to save me. Grant me eternal salvation. I have to turn to Him over and over again. Handing my tears, my joy, my worries into His extended hands. That is how He saves me.

I have made the comment several times. My divorce saved my life. For months I attributed all change to my divorce. This is wrong.

My divorce didn’t save my life. It gave me the opportunity to save myself.

And I took it.

I am the only one who can do anything about my inner heart and soul work. I am the only one who can give myself a healthy body and mind. I am the only one who can break down the walls built around me, blocking me from ever moving forward. I am the only one who can provide myself with the love and support I need by opening up, being vulnerable, and loving others. I am the only one who can let God in. Me.

I have resisted for a very long time. Believing I wasn’t worth saving. Putting every other person and thing on a pedestal. Above me.

No more.

Maybe this seems selfish. Self-centered. Narrow minded.

You can think that.

But I now see that by saving myself, loving myself, healing myself, I have more to offer. More love. More support. More friendship. More compassion. More understanding. More steady thoughts. More faith. More courage. More strength.

Because I am digging deep. Inside of me. Facing my fears. Speaking vulnerably. Showing up. Standing tall. Even when the whispers and shouts tell me not to.

Are you resisting? Is life handing you an opportunity to save yourself? Will you turn away because it is too hard and too long of a journey? Unknown. Scary. So you keep giving and giving until there is nothing left. Or are you going to take it.