TW: Suicide, Anxiety, Depression


Janelle, the valley is not your home.
You will not grow old here.
You come here to mourn;
you’ll leave when you are ready.
This place is not a part of you.
You can begin the healing process here.
This place will teach you how to grieve,
it will teach you what to say
when someone else is hurting,
but it is not long term.
It is not your destination.
It is not the finish line for you.
You deserve a better view.
Your story does not end here;
there are so many more pages waiting to be written,
there will be more chapters,
this is only one chapter,
you have an entire series ahead of you.
This is not a place to make yourself comfortable.
I know, it feels familiar.
You reach its lowest point,
you recognize the scenery,
but that does not mean you must live there.
That does not make a home.
You do not have a foundation here.
You will not build yourself walls here;
that would only keep your loved ones from reaching you.
They are here for you,
they have come to visit,
they want you to come home.
Do not settle down here.
Let them lead you out.
They leave a trail of hope for you to follow.
It looks like memories,
you remember standing front row
as your favorite band
plays your favorite song off your favorite album,
the first time you went to the movies by yourself,
Mad Max: Fury Road
in the crappy Lexington Park theater,
the extra gooey chocolate brownies Shari makes,
the day you met Bethany,
Ciera lying next to you in the street in the pouring rain,
balloons on your birthday,
the cheesecake from New York your family sends you every year,
God listening to you when you are angry,
especially when you are angry,
His patience with you,
His unconditional love for you,
the way He still calls you his daughter
no matter how many times you’ve run away,
palm trees
and good books,
and sunflowers,
and apple juice,
and road trips to Ohio, Norfolk,
Pittsburgh, New York,
Delaware, Chicago,
and Michigan,
teaching 5-year-old Adisu how to say spoon,
and cupcake and crayon in English,
reading your poetry to strangers
in Tina’s living room,
the Pacific Ocean,
The Iron Giant,
forts in the Walker’s backyard,
the “I love me” tattoo on the back of your neck,
the way your mother pronounces breakfast,
your students’ never-ending love for play-dough,
how you and Kate looked jumping into the bay in February
in matching dolphin t-shirts,
Goonies never say die!
the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling
you bought for yourself when you were 19,
your scars finally healing,
bon fires and inside jokes,
hours of Kidz Bop with Jenna,
and how thankful you are
she’s moved on to Bruno Mars,
holiday themed socks,
roller coasters,
sunsets,
the chubby hula girl sitting on the dashboard of your car,
polaroid pictures new and old,
Relient K’s Christmas album,
listening to Dan sing along to the radio at the top of his lungs,
a 7-mile hike around the lake,
thinking about what it really means to be at peace,
you remember that all these things
make panic attacks,
and ex-best friends,
screwing up all those second chances,
bad days,
bad haircuts,
bad winters,
punishing yourself,
dropping out of college,
being afraid of so many things and that starting so early,
the 6th time you failed your driver’s test,
watching the children you love suffer,
all the judgement,
the suicide attempt,
the broken promises,
the stage fright,
the lies,
the nightmares,
your dad being sent to jail,
the fact that he deserved that,
being diagnosed as Bi-polar,
all the things you regret,
that you wish you could change,
that frustrate you,
embarrass you,
that scare you
bearable.
All these things are bearable
now that you remember
the rest of your story.
These things belong here;
you do not.
You need to remember that.
There is so much more out there.
You cannot stay here.
There is so much more good in your life than bad.
I know the disappointing things,
the terrifying things,
the painful things
take center stage so often.
Sometimes they send you here,
but the hopeful things,
the things that make you laugh,
the memories you cherish,
the God that never gives up on you,
the things that make this place all worth it,
they are calling you home.