Still Here

Four years ago, I thought about ending my life. I didn’t see the point in continuing. My marriage was crumbling, and my identity was in shattered pieces. I felt invisible to the world and to myself.

Two years ago, after my divorce was finalized, I bought an RV and started driving south. I didn’t know what I was searching for, only that I couldn’t stay where I was.

Not physically.

Not emotionally.

Not spiritually.

This photo was taken in the Florida Keys. I was sitting in silence, watching the sky burn itself into the ocean to awaken the night. And for all the pain and destruction I had lived through, I remember this moment clearly, feeling a sense of renewed hope and deep gratitude. Gratitude for the journey I’ve been on. Gratitude for the grace of God, who has been healing my wounds ever since.

That gratitude doesn’t come from everything being perfect. It comes from being awake again, from feeling a sense of wonder about this world and its beauty. Even the chaos and the hurt, somehow, are part of this mystical tapestry we’re all tangled in. And when you’ve almost lost your life, even the painful threads can shimmer with meaning.

If you’re reading this and you feel like you’re in that same deep, dark pit, like everything around you is crumbling and you can’t see a way out, I want to encourage you with something simple → go watch a sunset.

Leave your racing thoughts behind. Sit in stillness, even if your mind feels like a storm. Let the colors pour over you. Let the quiet remind you that you’re still here.

There’s something sacred about letting the world slow down around you, something healing about remembering that beauty still exists, even in the midst of your pain. You don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t have to climb out of the pit today. Just be still. And know that you are loved. More than you can imagine.

This world, your existence, your experience was created for you and you have the ability to shape your future no matter how bleak it may appear.