Let me take you back.
It was my daughter’s first birthday, just a few shy years ago although the distance today feels as if it were yesterday somehow. I was just beginning to rise above the leach of post-partum depression and was still struggling admittedly but less–incredibly less compared to months prior, even days. I remember smiling during the usual #murica first birthday festivities and genuinely feeling grateful for all the love poured out that day despite my self loathing and inability to accept much positivity for quite some time—nearly one year exactly.
(PPD snapshot memories/a little backstory: I have vivid memory of that first breakdown when Anthony left to play golf for the first time since the birth and my mother had already returned home from helping me nurture Ellie for weeks. to be alone. to be struggling to feed her #breastfeedingsucked. to know he was literally picking up his passion/love again when I couldn’t pursue anything but changing diapers and filling containers with boob milk during those infancy days. my sinful heart just couldn’t handle the jealousy. We had friends who reached out plenty of times to break the cycle and give me a chance to not be a mamma for 2 seconds yet nearly every time I succumbed to my PPD and quite honestly sometimes used it as an excuse not to hang. because the only thing worse for someone suffering from PPD is to be in public and/or around those who can peer into your soul like a mirror of reminders to the festerings in your heart. To be seen so miserable. to be misunderstood. to be understood. It all was too terrifying to even imagine stepping outside the front door except to run, which I oddly did a lot of post partum and was my first steps towards rising above PPD.)
I remember even saying to someone “it’s just really hard to be around happy people right now.” Y’all, the struggle was so real. But I was trying. I was making strides towards happiness. And even loved ones noticed I was in better spirits that day. . .
Until I realized something after all the goodbyes were said at the birthday party.
Somehow, someway I forgot to invite my bestie friend/my maid of honor; the person I’m nearly positive I once told we would plan that first birthday together. And yet she wasn’t there.
Y’all, I L O S T it. I could not comprehend the fact that even though I felt like I was getting better, I was still so wrapped up in my own issues that I didn’t think twice about anyone local missing from that party list. All day I didn’t think about it until the last loved ones left and the trash was cleared. So from that moment on, the self-loathing guilt circled tracks into my heart until this very day today.
I was going to share the details of how we finally ran into each other after our “fallout” post birthday party (or whatever term the young kids use these days when friendships take a break/dwindle), but I’m still processing and resting in my hope unspoken during our serediputous exchange at the bookstore today. Grace, humility, honesty, and just plain ol love–that is the root of every great friendship and our embrace reminded me of that; of the hope unspoken in my heart for a rekindled bond; of hope for so much more out of life than what those voices in our heads convince us of.
Remember what they say, a smile can make a world of difference to a person’s day. It did for me today for sure, and I hope for her too. So reader, I hope you find your moment of closure for that unanswered prayer very soon. Don’t give up on God. Do keep that hope alive in your heart, even if unspoken. God hears you, and His timing is ever perfect. Rest in that my friends.