A Pep Talk.
There will come a time when you finally get honest with the pain beating inside your heart. And there will be words that feel like darts piercing those vulnerable places. It will make you hollow. It will poke a hole and every bit of gumption will drain out of you. That will be the moment you want to quit. To shut everything down. To stop trying. To throw your hands up and say, Maybe I was never made for that kind of life. Maybe I’ll never be understood. Maybe I was romanced by delusions.
And that will be the moment that you hold on even tighter.
You will show up to the thing you love. You will sit at the desk for hours if you have to. Until the words come. Until light finally manages to peek through the clouds you’ve let darken your skies.
You’ll want to fill the time with Netflix and ice cream and tears. You’ll want to do anything but the thing you're supposed to love. Because you won’t feel able. You won’t feel capable. You won’t have anything to give. You won’t feel the wind in your sails.
Sometimes you have to be emptied. Sometimes you have to get to the end of yourself. Sometimes you have to sit in the deepest pain you can imagine before your gift can know what to do with it. If you allow yourself to feel it all, to truly understand where the hurt is coming from, your heart will finally start to make sense of it.
Just stay. Stay in that place. Keep the sails up. Keep your eyes open. Even if nothing seems to be happening. Even if you feel you have nothing to give.
The Artist will move in you. That thing that He has created you to do will come back. Because it thrives on the raw and gritty stuff of life.
Stop trying to feed it the mundane, the average. Don't phone it in. Stop trying to avoid the things that wreck you, that mess you up, that leave you with endless tears flowing from the wound.
Most generally, that pain mixed with your gift is the perfect recipe for your purpose in life.
Maybe there won’t be a time in your life where you don’t feel the weight of the wound. Maybe there won’t be a time where the scar completely disappears. Maybe it’s meant to stay. Maybe it’s mean to be a reminder to prevent those bullets from ever flying again. Where you once felt lack, you can provide healing. Where you once felt pain, you can provide peace.