There were several events that stole much of my attention last year. Suffice it to say, it was not a year of growth for me. In fact, it felt like the opposite – the overwhelming and conflicting feelings of joy from getting engaged, despair from losing a parent, mounting excitement for the wedding, having my cat die unexpectedly, and crippling anxiety were all a bit much to take in in such a short period of time.
I got one thing I wanted – a husband – but lost many other things.
And then, curious of where I was emotionally and what I felt on this day one year ago, I opened my journal and found this:
I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before – that doors I pounded on relentlessly remained locked to me because maybe I wasn’t meant to have what was on the other side. But I threw my whole weight against those doors anyway, for years, until my sides ached. And walking now with this pathetic limp, I can’t help but wonder, what if they did open? What are the repercussions of getting something I want so badly, for reasons I can only hope are the right ones?
I never thought one day I’d struggle to be grateful for closed doors.
While I’m certainly not thankful that my father never got to walk me down the aisle, that Tommy had liver failure the vet diagnosed too late, and that depression and anxiety have threatened to suck all that remains of my sanity, this passage is definitely something to think about.
What “closed doors” are you grateful for?