Breaking The Jars: Intention behind my blog.

Imagine this with me.

Sixteen years of age, long brown hair, big brown eyes. Innocence stolen. Her eyes reveal pain. They reveal helplessness. She wants to give up.

She’s seated on the front stoop of a beautiful old farmhouse surrounded by the Amish heartland in all directions. Mason jar in hand, eyes glazed, she watches as dusk falls over the corn fields. She sees the sky fade from blue, to yellow and pink with little conviction. She feels numb.

Slowly, fireflies spark from the fields as though the kernels of corn had been granted the magic of hovering in the brilliant colors of the setting sun. For one moment, she is a child again. She is aware of the natural phenomenon swirling around her, engulfing her in its peace. She rises from her stoop and runs toward the field, bare feet on the earth beneath her. She’s going to catch one of those fireflies. She’s going to keep this beautiful moment forever…

There’s an abrupt stop at the edge of the field. The mason jar rolls from her hand to the dirt below. She’s frozen. The familiar feelings of numb helplessness surge through her body, through her heart, through her soul as a breath of realization passes over her mind.

Fireflies Aren’t Meant to Live in Jars.

Their beauty stifled, their colors muted.

I am a Firefly, she says to herself.

And he is stifling my beauty. He is muting my colors.

And I must break my jar.

When I tell this story, I enjoy imagining that at that exact moment, I was freed from my burdens. That at that exact moment, my wounds were healed. That I was liberated and granted my childhood for a second try. I like to think that I didn’t make the same mistakes again and again and again. I like to think it’s not 10 years later, and I am still making strides in my recovery.

But that’s not how the healing process works. It takes time. It takes effort. It takes an extraordinary amount of patience as you allow yourself to strengthen through repeated failures.

I can say though, that at that exact moment I understood one thing.

Nature is powerful.

And it supplied me with my first breath of hope. My initial thought of restored empowerment.

Within the last ten years. My faith in healing through wilderness was strengthened continuously as I relished in moments like the one I had in the corn field. For my own therapeutic closure, I would like to share those moments. I want you to have a space to share your moments.

This blog is not only about my journey to healing. It is also an encouragement to stand up. To take control. To put your feet on the Earth, and heal.

Break your jar.

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