“Individually, we are one drop. Together, we are an ocean.” –Ryunosuke Satoro

The big lie in the world is that we are alone. That no one truly understands us and can relate to our struggles. That having to grieve the idea of children or not being where we thought we would be or getting older or not being successful in the way we dreamed is unique to just us. The more life I live and the more conversations I have, I am more and more convinced of how untrue this is.

There is little else as powerful as sharing a belief like that and having someone else say, “I totally get it. I’ve been there.” 

For me, it gives me permission to lean into and and rumble with it. I don’t have to hide from it or feel ashamed, because I’m not alone. I’m not the only one. And others have not only felt that way, but prevailed over it and through it and around it.

The key, then, is to tell someone. To find at least one, safe person – or maybe safe people – and share the struggle. To be honest with yourself and them about the thing that’s holding you back.

For me, one of my things – especially when I’m tired, not at my best, and looking through shit-colored lenses – is that I’m not enough. When I shared this with you all about a year ago, it felt freeing. Scary too, but mostly freeing. But it’s not a one and done thing. I have to wrestle it to the ground more often than I’d like to admit.

So when I write victory statements like, “I see that [I am] glorious” like I did in my last post, it’s in no way bragging. It’s simply claiming the truth that I am made in the image of a divine Creator, which means I am perfectly flawed and terribly wonderful, in no way alone, and certainly…surely, more than enough.

[Photo: Swall Meadows near Mammoth Lakes]