I forget often, but I try my damndest to live in extreme gratitude.
And as usual, I got to thinking.
I watched a video today about a woman who survived a mass shooting. Not the most recent, but one of them. Sure, I’m grateful that I have never been involved in a mass shooting and ultimately I’m thankful for my life, but that’s not the point here.
She said something along the lines of “I’m just grateful it was me that had to live through it, and not someone else. I don’t think someone else would have been strong enough to handle that and I’m glad it was me.” Or something along those lines. I’m paraphrasing. Whatever.
It sounds almost braggadocious to someone who doesn’t understand that feeling, but I do. I am genuinely grateful for the s+!t I’ve lived through, and I’m glad it was me. I’m glad I’ve born these burdens, maybe so somewhere down the line, someone doesn’t have to.
I’m thankful for the rock bottoms because, without them, I would never have become the woman I am today.
Given the choice, I am fully 100% blessed to have struggled in so many aspects of life so early on in life.
This twisted appreciative-ness for pain has enlightened my walk forward and experiencing deep lows has by far enhanced the highs of living.
My favorite line from a book says:
“Fortunate is the person who can succeed in extracting honey from such a flower as this life, whose root and every petal is bitterness.”
And fortunate they are because to fight through the bitterness means the outcome will be that much sweeter.