Finding Harmony Within

Stephanie Edwards

uploaded: 2024

When I was twelve, I thought the worst thing in the world was someone opening my private journal. So I plastered a “DO NOT READ OR DIE” label on the inside beside a photo of Justin Timberlake. Man, that selection of role models didn’t age well at all, did it?

My perception of “the worst thing in the world” has evolved significantly over the past 20+ years. I've witnessed both of my children nearly die before my eyes, battled suicidal thoughts, and been blessed by God with a gift that can be overwhelmingly intense at times. Gradually, my greatest fear became “ending up all alone” until I reached a point where solitude no longer frightened me. Achieving that level of freedom requires a hard, unyielding fall. It wasn't until a friend pointed it out today that I realized I had never considered my thoughts on isolation as “freedom.” But it's true. If I've already accepted and made peace with “the worst thing in the world,” what else is there to fear? And honestly, that isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Without sounding self-congratulatory, I recognize that I embody peace, and those who see me differently simply don't know me at all. I’m a high-energy yet gentle peace, and I understand that my perceived hot-tempered shortcomings stem from my desire for justice when others hurt the people I love. If I’m hurt deeply enough, I will seek justice for myself as well, but only after enduring far more than I should. Although my gentleness can be misinterpreted, I will never tolerate the careless dismissal of someone else's pain. I know I’m worthy, lovable, and full of life. Currently, I feel like I'm positively learning so much about myself.

I know the girl who twirls around her kitchen island, dancing to George Strait or Relient K. She is the same girl who dines with her friends, and they ask, “Why are you yelling at us?” because we all laugh so hard our stomachs ache, and I’m trying to be heard over the music. She is the same girl who tirelessly shuttles to the children’s hospital, armed with proof and a mouth full of demands. She sat in the tattoo chair for hours, making sure she looked as tough as she feels. She also puts on her pink lipstick and curls her hair every Sunday morning before church. I don't have to be any certain thing other than me. 

As I stirred my coffee this afternoon for an extra boost, I teared up thinking about this blog post. Why? Because I genuinely love WHO I AM and the place I have found myself. I smile for no reason other than the simple fact that I love this version of myself. No one can change or take that away from me, no matter how the coming years unfold. The worst thing in the world is hating who I am, and I’m so far removed from that now.

Since twelve years old, I learned far more than I was ever prepared for, and I strive not to dwell on "why me." All I know now is that I've developed a distaste for Justin Timberlake, my journal filled with John Mayer and Simple Plan-inspired song lyrics is a lost treasure I deeply wish I still had, and that everything will be okay, even if it means being alone. The most important thing is that I know I don't deserve to be alone. Misery in your self-image is the most isolating feeling because it can persist even when you're surrounded by people.