My Abyss

2021 was the hardest year of my life. Fall and Winter of 2021 was a disaster, that might even be an understatement.

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I felt knocked down and beaten by life.

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I just found out I failed the bar exam for the second year in a row. Any professional and career aspirations I had died that day. It felt that everyone was right. That going to law school was a mistake. That I wasn’t smart enough to be an attorney. I was distraught and lost. I laid on my couch for two days only getting up to eat comfort food (tater tots and Mac and cheese).

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I felt hopeless. I felt confused. I felt abandoned. I felt ungodly alone and a failure.

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And through it all I was competing in my final rugby season. But after every game I felt more defeated. I’d hobble to the trainer for more tape on my ankle or reevaluate my knee. I was terrified of a major injury ending the season before its proper conclusion. I was doing everything I could to help will us one step closer, only to get smacked down again and again. I still remember walking off the field for the last time, gazing at the sunset. Debating if I should capture the last moment. Only to turn away and just ride off. Ending the 15 year journey. Closing the door and welcoming the next step. Whatever that may be. 

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All I had to cling to was my gym and its people. But even there I felt numb. It felt different and foreign and not the place that revolutionized my life in a previous dark time. I felt like a ghost just drifting through.

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I debated leaving Minnesota. Living in my parents basement. Just hopeless and unsure.

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I didn’t want to die, but I felt dead on the inside. I knew what I was doing wasn’t living. I was just waiting for someone to come along and make it better. I didn’t smile in the mirror for months. I barely if ever went out or saw friends. I just slid away, part of me hoping that if I actually disappeared maybe no one would notice because I was already faded away.

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One night when it all felt helpless an old friend asked me how I was doing and the only positive I could find was that I was still sober. And I don’t know what it was. But there was something in their reaction that felt like I just won at life a little. A little spark. So I kept going.

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And every once in a while I found another spark. A little flicker of warmth and light. So I chased the breadcrumb until it faded and I was back again in the dark. In the abyss. All alone.

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Then I’d see another flicker in the darkness, chase it, and repeat the process. Slowing making my way through the darkness. No idea what way I was going or even where. 

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I just clung to people or places or ideas that felt like warmth throughout the cold and frigid Minnesota fall and winter. I was just trying to keep that spark nestled inside the cobweb of my soul alive as long as I could.

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I sat closeby friends who were just happy to see me. Those that silently cheered me on. Celebrated my wins, when I didn’t even know how. Those that encouraged and gave me a reason to smile. Those that saw the spark and refused to believe it could be snuffed out, regardless of what life threw at me. I sought conversations that fueled that spark.

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I started to take charge of me. I shifted away from letting life live me. I saw that spark grow into a fire. I felt a burning and a craving for more. I saw myself living more intentionally and deliberately and as a result I saw an influx of like minded people enter my life.

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That fire in my soul couldn’t be contained. It became a wildfire. It lit up my whole fucking world. It was the drive to keep me going. It was the drive to help anyone who felt as defeated as me. As alone as me. As consumed by the darkness. To know that there is light. There is a bright light, coming to bring the warmth and help you feel alive.

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I didn’t want to die. And I'm so glad I didn’t. Because I still have a light to shine.

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