Death and rebirth

When I was hiking Round Mountain a month or so ago, it was very apparent that at some point in the not-too-distant past, a wildfire had gone through and ravaged the hillside. There are long, tall stalks of dead trees, but the forest is also rich with new growth that is filling in. The scars of the past are visible, but the forest is very much alive.

Two years ago I was in hell as a fire burned down the forest of my soul. I was in a very dark place. Around the time I found myself Googling what, exactly, would physically happen to my body if I downed a gallon of bleach (hint: it's stuff that's probably not actually fatal but really, really painful and expensive to treat), I decided to seek out help. It took two support groups and therapy, as well as the support of tons of friends, to pull me through, but I made it.

A year later, I had graduated and had a job offer and was preparing to move across the country. I've almost been in the Yakima area a full year now! I feel like that picture represents me a lot. The scars are still there, still visible, and they still hurt, but the new growth is filling in, progress is being made, and there's some beauty to be found in it.

Time heals all wounds. Two years ago I wanted to punch anyone that said that, but it's true. If you're in a dark spot, hang in there. It will pass. It might pass like a kidney stone, but it's gonna pass.