Blog

Sep12
2019

I Hope You’re Reading This

By Jamie Agresta

You mattered yesterday.

With a mind that felt like it had betrayed you and a body weighted with intangible chains, you still held on.

Your presence was a blessing all the times you showed up anyway and made an effort even though your heart wasn’t in it.

Your worth was valued innumerable on all those days you spent in bed, weary, and desperately trying to find some semblance of comfort in the reluctant sanctuary of a long cluttered room, with blinds tightly drawn.

With your mind incessantly hissing into your ear that you’re broken beyond repair, you still chose life.

And although you didn’t know it or feel it, all the way back when, this life chose you, too.

You’re making today a better place.

Your name, your being, your presence is ubiquitous amongst purpose and value.

Can I convince you to take that to heart?

I don’t know you, but I promise I see you.

I have been you.

I am still you; my story, this journey will always be a part of me.

You’re the beauty in this state of broken. You’re the catalyst in this fight for change. You’re the answer to someone’s lonely prayers.

I hope you’re reading this.

Don’t stay in the dark places for too long. Invite people into your mess without fearing you’re a burden or you’re “too much.” Send the text. Pick up the phone. Make the drive. You’re loved, you’re wanted, you’re a quintessential part of the quality in this life and you’re worthy of someone picking up those boxing gloves and fighting the good fight alongside you.

You are still here.

Without pause or hesitation, I know you’re slated to bring far greater healing and purpose into this world than you can fathom in this moment.

It’s hard to see now, so let me paint you a picture. Just the broad strokes though—I’ll let you fill in the details later. You’ll come to want to fill those in yourself, I promise.

I know you’re numb.

There is no need for word exchange; your pain, it resonates with me.

I can see your empty, tear-brimmed eyes as they meet mine and say, “Hope and value do not dwell here.”

If I can offer you one thing, one way out, let it be this: if you can’t find worth in your own life right now, I urge you seek it by looking outside of yourself. Find value in someone else’s life. Someone hurting, someone struggling. Maybe someone just like you.

There is a great sense of comfort and healing found within even the smallest sense of community and belonging.

Little bits of lost faith can be found in the most unlikely of places, and the most unexpected ways. From me to you, this is it.

This is the loophole in a fate you thought was sealed.

Sharing your truth, offering your friendship, gracing a harsh world with your compassion has the power to change a life, to save a life. You are a quintessential part of someone’s healing. What you have to offer now is more than enough.

Without even realizing it, you will come to find one of the lives you saved—the one you changed—was your own.

There is so much purpose found in helping someone else, and where there is purpose inevitably you will find value.

You will make tomorrow a better place.

You’re still here.

There is hope.

This is a tangible hope. I can feel it. I can see it.

You are meant not only to live but to thrive.

You are here. You are breathing. Your heart is beating. This is your starting point and it is more than enough.

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Comments (7)

  1. Ashley Rygalski

    Beautifully written!!!!

    Reply  |  
  2. R

    Thank you for this beautiful piece of writing. Super encouraging reminder ❤️

    Reply  |  
  3. Kat

    The last time I attempted suicide I felt I had done it. The police came into my house and I was out of it. One of the officers said I had to go to the hospital. I ran out of the room and said I needed to take the rest of my medication first. They caught me and handcuffed me and put me in the police car. I really didn’t know what had happened for a few weeks after I got home. I found out that I told my daughter I hated her. I have suicidal thoughts often but have not made an attempt since.

    Reply  |  
    1. TWLOHA

      Kat,

      We are so grateful that you are safe now and that the police were there at the time to keep you safe as well. We hope you are starting to heal now from that experience, we understand how hard and even traumatic that can feel and be.

      Please know that the thoughts you are experiencing are not uncommon. Many people deal with suicidal ideation and there is help. Would you email our team at info@twloha.com so we can hear more about your mental health story and point you to some resources?

      With Hope,
      TWLOHA

      Reply  |  
  4. Maryanne Moyer

    There is too much fate, when it should be faith! Faith in what you can’t see and not in what you can! There I lies the rub! We all feel spirits, that’s faith. Hohn in on that!

    Reply  |  
  5. Anonymous Voice

    When my friend asked me today how I was doing, I cried. Then I responded with these exact words: “I have a heart that beats, and breath in my lungs. That’s gotta count for something.” So, the tears streaming down my face right now tell me my stumbling into this blog and specifically this post was no accident. I can’t put into words what reading this has meant after last sleepless night with the brutal storm that is constantly brewing.

    Reply  |  
  6. Corrie

    This was said so profoundly/beautifully!
    So ministered to my heart!
    Thank you😊

    Reply  |  
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