Life is often compared to climbing a mountain. Or a series of mountains. Life, goals, challenges are often referred to as laboring your way up a mountain, slowly making your way to the top. Then an unceremonious descent down, only to be faced with another mountain.

I'm on Everest, so it seems. I've been climbing it as long as I can remember. I truly thought that perhaps I was nearing the top. Granted, I didn't think this was the last mountain of my life, but I was pretty sure it was one of the biggest, and hardest, to climb. And as I got to the top, I felt ready to collapse and kiss the ground. Unfortunately, as I got there, the clouds hanging above me parted, and I realize I'm not at the top. In fact, I have quite a way more to go.

Life has a way of doing that.

I had hoped to stop and rest, just take a break on the current ledge and catch my breath. But, again, life has other plans.

Things continue to remain crazy, and I'm pretty convinced that's not going to change anytime soon. I hope to post more when I get a chance, but right now it seems a storm is coming (another one) and I have to keep moving if I don't want to be blown back down the mountain. So, wish me continued luck.



A few weeks ago, I saw a quote-card which struck my eye:

“You can’t heal in the environment that got you sick.”

I literally had to stop for a moment. That single sentence was so profound, and sums up my life, at this point, so perfectly. 

I always characterize the road we’re on—the road ahead of us—as rebuilding our lives. But, I think first and foremost, we need to heal. We couldn’t heal back in Chicago. Too much tragedy, too much loss, too much “fighting the good fight” and losing.  Forced change was not easy, but we needed to be extracted from the situation.  The environment was toxic, but we were too close to see it for what it was.

After I wrote my last entry, I ended up having to go back to our old neighborhood. I swore I wouldn’t ride by our house, since I didn’t want to reopen old wounds. But, curiosity got the better of me. Despite what our neighbor had said, the place looked like a ghost town. Or rather a haunted house,  run-down and overgrown. It’s clear the property is only barely being maintained by the bank. “Falling apart” is the best way to describe it—and I realized that described our lives a year ago. 

So, oddly enough, seeing the house actually made me feel better. Going back was never really an option, but the truth is, we don't want to go back. We left a sick environment, and going back would only mean getting sick again. We're ready to heal, ready to rebuild. And we were brought to a place where we can finally start to do that. So, as another one of my favorite quotes says...

“I may not have not gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.”

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Posted/Updated on July 18th, 2018