Today I stood out in the rain. Just stood there and let the rain soak through my clothes, my bare feet muddy from the wet ground. I’m fairly certain my neighbor worried I was coming unhinged as he eyed my dripping hair and the makeup running down my face, but the truth was quite the opposite.
It’s been one hell of a year. And yet, somehow, I’ve not only endured, but I’ve survived. I wonder if one can really appreciate the subtle difference without experiencing it. Simply put — enduring is putting up with something unpleasant, while surviving implies that one’s vitality hasn’t been forfeit. Endurance is the continuation of existence, but surviving — surviving is continuing to live.
A year ago, I would’ve never thought it possible to do anything other than endure. It felt like all my liveliness had been sucked out of me, and as I looked into the future of my life, I sincerely believed it would never return.
But today, as I stood in the rain I could see how far I’ve come. I haven’t simply watched the past 12 months of my life pass by; I’ve lived it. Every messy bit of it. It hasn’t been easy, by any means, requiring much blood, sweat and tears, to be honest. But knowing that I’ve played an active role in shaping the course of my life is a good feeling. Really good.
So good, in fact, that even the clouds couldn’t damper my mood. So I stood out there to prove - to myself? to God maybe? - that I’m alive. That even with the rain pouring down my face, I can smile. Genuinely.