“Things go well for a time. Then comes a crisis when we seem trapped. Everything we’ve dreamed of, worked for, even prayed for, falls apart. How are we to keep going?”

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I’ve looked at these four lines several times over the past week. It’s one of the most relatable things I’ve read so far in Disciple II, and maybe since I started Disciple last year. I know that I’ve said a lot of ridiculous things lately. And, although I’m not a fan of making excuses, I think explaining the way this quote resonates with me may help those of you who have never walked this path understand a bit more.

I Dreamed of Emily

If you know me at all, then you’d probably chuckle and agree that Emily’s description of me as “a dude with boobs” isn’t far off. I’m far from feminine, and I’m okay with that. Regardless, I still had some of the same fantasies most girls do.

From a young age, I never really felt like I fit in anywhere. I quickly learned how to make friends with one of two methods: assimilation or submission. Yet, I held onto this hope (more like a distant dream) that someday I’d find a person who made me feel like I belonged. I’d find that one person who I fit in with, who accepted and loved me exactly the way I am, who never judged me or thought less of me for my quirks.

I hoped and prayed and dreamed of this person, not knowing or caring if they’d be a sibling or a friend or a romantic partner or a pet. As long as I no longer felt the constant heartache of loneliness, I’d accept anything or anyone who matched my dream.

Of course, if you’d pointed Emily out to me before August of 2018 and said, “There she is! The girl you’ve been dreaming of!” I would have laughed. And yet, there she was.

On the surface, it seemed like we came from two completely different worlds. But, the more we stood there and talked in the parking lot after our weekly group therapy sessions, I discovered that the Universe had finally delivered my match.

And just when I stopped worrying about losing my person, just when I finally felt like things were going my way, she was gone.

I Seek Control Over My Life

Plans and control are very important to me. I need these things to feel safe. I know that people find it to be a bit extra and even obnoxious at times, but it is truly what my brain needs to stop itself from spinning out of control. And, although we often made fun of each other for all the ridiculous things we concocted in our heads when we experienced “the unknown,” Emily understood why I was this way and respected it.

These past 11 months have not gone according to plan. At all. Even the backup plans I made to deal with the aftermath of the dumpster fire that was the original plans. At this point, I don’t even feel like I can hold onto a ledge or dig my heels in to slow things down — everything is moving too fast and I’ve lost all control. It’s more than being trapped; it’s watching my life spin off the road, do too many flips to count, then roll off the edge of a giant cliff.

Everything Fell Apart

To say that everything fell apart on October 19, 2022 is the understatement of the century. Not only did I lose the one person who felt like home, but I lost everything I’d worked towards over the past 6 years. Who knew a single moment could completely shatter an entire lifetime of hope, resiliency, and determination?

If you’ve never experienced this type of a loss, I think it’s impossible to wrap your brain around it. I don’t even think telling you to close your eyes and imagine losing your favorite person would be enough to help you relate. It’s something that only those who have experienced it can understand.

And, as if losing the person I considered to be my best friend and soulmate wasn’t enough, the entire situation has left me with so many complicated emotions and more questions than I could ever possibly write down. I’ve lost friendships, any faith I had in humanity, and all of the self-esteem I’ve been building over the past 5-7 years.

Most of all, I’ve lost the one thing that typically keeps most people in my situation from going off the deep end: my spiritual faith.

Emily’s death was the first domino in an entire sequence. Just when I think it’s finally over, I encounter another part of the trail, still going strong as it all comes tumbling down.

How Do I Keep Going?

Today one of my best friends asked me a question that she knows brings me to tears, but she asked it anyway.

“If Emily were here right now, what would she say?”

The jokes about smacking me or asking if I need to “go to the grippy sock jail” aside, I’m honestly not sure what she could say in this situation. And, honestly, if she were just here, I wouldn’t even be in this place at all — I’d still be just fine.

To say that I’ve overcome a lot in my life is true (and honestly a bit of an understatement). But nothing has felt this painful. Nothing has brought me to my knees quite like this.

I don’t know what people can do to help. I don’t even know how I can help myself. I’m not a person right now. I’m just a shell.

I spent the first 30 years of my life living without my other half, not even fully realizing just what I was missing. But because I did get that time and experienced the joy that comes with receiving unconditional love and adoration, I don’t think I can just “go back” and “be okay.”

The only way the world will make sense again is if I’m with the person who didn’t just try to turn on the light and make me look at it, but rather came and sat with me in the dark and said, “You know, this isn’t so bad now that we’re here together.”

I’m tired of trying to fight. I’m tired of reminding myself that this will pass. I’m tired of waking up each day to fight the same battles I already know I can’t win. But maybe, just maybe I can find my way back to her. Because without her, I’m not sure I even want to keep going.