Grief to Gratitude
“Faith is the strength by which a shattered world shall emerge into the light.” ~Helen Keller
I see no better way to begin this conversation than with a quote from Helen Keller, her life story one of inspiration and faith.
Faith. It’s a simple word, but one with complex meaning. It’s a ;word denoting many ideals, one that may hold meaning to each of us in its own unique way and come in many forms. For many faith is a belief in God or the teachings of religion. For myself, it is a belief and trust in my family and friends. But mostly, it is a belief in me.
Having said that, my faith hasn’t always been clear, life’s challenges often blindsiding me to send me tumbling backward. My story of divorce isn’t one fraught with difficulties, the end of my long-term marriage rather uneventful, peaceful even. The result was one of continuing friendship and love, just not as husband and wife. But, for some, it is managing the post-divorce life that can prove hard. And that’s where I ran into trouble.
Had I known what I do now, perhaps I would have made decisions that would have left me with a better financial foundation. But, hindsight is a tricky thing, not so very helpful when it happens after-the-fact. Not to mention the fact that life is, and always will be, unpredictable. Even had I been better prepared, I could not have foreseen the events that unfolded. And, if I’m honest, it was a combination of many things, the gradual erosion that took place starting long before my divorce, a subtle change in my self-confidence, the disappearance in the faith of self.
I lost the person who didn’t know there were things in life I (supposedly) shouldn’t tackle. I lost the person who didn’t know the odds of writing a book (and actually getting it published the first time around) were near to impossible. I lost the person who didn’t know one shouldn’t just pack up and move to a small, mountain town and start an art gallery. That person — the person who had dreams and goals and wasn’t afraid to pursue them — was slowly battered into submission by life’s constant challenges.
I’m not writing this to elicit sympathy — we all battle each and every day just to meet the next one. It is my purpose merely to say: even the strongest of us can lose our way. I most certainly did.
It may have started with my persistent (perhaps even stubborn) pursuit of my passion; I wanted to write my stories. Yet, as I dealt with the world of traditional publishing for my first five novels, I slowly learned there was a seedy, sometimes brutal (even dishonest) side of the industry that regularly chewed up and spit out the hopeful. A secret no one spoke of openly. Then, the dream of having my own business on my own terms became more of a nightmare as my former spouse and I went into debt to keep the doors open. We lived in a small tourist town, and the ups and downs of this lifestyle were immensely stressful.
The final nail in the coffin of my self-confidence came in the form of a health diagnosis. I had Spasmodic Dysphonia; something I had silently (no pun intended) suffered from for years. Never heard of it? I hadn’t either. It’s a rare neurological voice disorder, one that comes and goes and is triggered by stress, anxiety, fatigue, and the like. Now, this isn’t life-threatening, but surely life-changing. And as a shy introvert, it certainly didn’t help me build self-confidence. In fact, it destroyed it.
So, I closed my store, gave up my passion, and hid myself away. After a move back to civilization (and some urging from my then spouse) I went back to work. Not long after came our divorce, and my financial struggles began in earnest. But, I tackled the issue as best I could. I found a better paying job, even moved to a place more suited to me. I thought things were good and I was relatively happy.
Then 2008 rolled around. The housing market crashed and banks began to fold like a house of cards. I found myself (and countless others) without a job. I was a single woman with no source of income, trying to find work amongst hundreds, even thousands. It was certainly a trying year, having started with the tragic and unexpected death of my mother. By its end, I had never felt so alone.
Over the next three years I tried to find permanent work but it seemed an elusive dream. ; During that time my ex-spouse was paramount in helping me keep my home, and for that, I am forever thankful. With contract and part-time work here and there, doing a variety of things, I managed to survive. But, I confess, it was one of the darkest times I’ve ever endured.
My self-confidence fell to an all-time low as I fought depression and debilitating stress. Which, in turn, made my voice horrible. Which made the stress worse. It was a cycle that seemed to have no end. Job interviews became a terrifying ordeal, and a terrified candidate certainly doesn’t give the good first impression one needs to land a great job.
I eventually found work and began to rebuild my life. Part-time at first, then finally full-time, and doing something I loved. Then the unthinkable happened … I was laid off, again. But, this time I was determined to face it with a different outlook, to not allow the darkness to creep in and steal away what little ground I had fought so hard to regain. It was time to find the very strength Helen Keller so eloquently described — faith.
This is where my dear neighbor comes in. After the death of my mother in early 2008, she was there for me, allowing me to cry on her very strong shoulders, always offering encouragement and love. Close to 25 years my senior, she became a mother figure in the absence of my own. We grew very close, turning to each other in times of need through the next eight years.
This woman was a true southern lady, a woman who had an unending faith in God. But rather than preach religion, she taught me faith comes in many different forms. She showed me how to find faith in myself, and trust in those closest to me. Never have I met anyone with such a remarkable sense of self. When she passed this summer, I felt the loss greatly, still do. But in her absence, I feel her gift to me each and every day: faith.
Another life-saving element during my dark years was that I started writing again. In late 2010 a fellow writer and friend contacted me out of the blue. She had moved many times and now lived thousands of miles away and we had lost touch. Some years before, we started writing together, having shared similar fates as chewed-up and spit-out hopefuls.
We signed a lucrative contract and finished our first novel. It was never published (another disappointing, eye-opening tale of traditional publishing, but, sadly, the only game in town at the time). Shortly after, we both quit the biz, disillusioned with the industry as a whole. What had changed? Self-publishing, more specifically, Amazon. She wondered if we should give it a try, this time doing things our way. So, we dusted off our novel and rewrote it. In the years that followed, we wrote and self-published three books.
When I found myself unemployed a second time, I did what was expected of me and started looking for another job. After months of discouragement and despair on the job front, I decided to take a leap of faith. I let go of the fear and, instead, concentrated on my writing. With pure abandon I jumped head-first into creating a new series of books, allowing myself to go whatever direction it took me. It has been one of the happiest times of my life, yet, probably the most disastrous financially. But, I have faith.
I’ve learned much in the past couple of years. I discovered I can live with much less than I ever thought I could. I took in a roommate for a spell to help make ends meet. I’ve done contract work whenever available. Of course, faith (and writing, it seems) does not pay the bills, so I’ve used my savings and even siphoned off of my IRA. I know it sounds crazy! But I refuse to give in to the worry of it all. As my neighbor often said, you might get hit by a bus tomorrow.
I suppose one day I may look back (you know, that hindsight thing) and think how naive I was. But I also don’t want to look back and think I should have. This year alone has been a mixture of sadness and loss, as well as one of joy and surprise. It seems just as I let go of a notion, a hope, or a desire, it happens.
Life continues to be unpredictable and hard, the challenges unending. Will I survive it? I hope so. But to do so, I must have faith. I do not wish to convey my own trials are of great import in the grand scheme of things; they are not. No matter what one experiences, there is always someone who endures worse. They merely matter in the small, personal (possibly insignificant) picture I paint. But the message of my story is to have faith.
I am so very grateful to have finally found it.
