The Liberty that comes with Loss

Losing is scary.

Depending on the experience, it can feel like you are being robbed spiritually, physically, or both ways.

And when the loss is something beloved and treasured, it can feel like you are not the same as you were when that beloved person/thing/experience (etc.) was with you.

I’ve seen what losses do.

What they take.

What they steal.

Whether the loss is minimal, moderate, or severe, I believe that there is a sprinkle of liberty in losses.

When I began to experience symptoms of depression (and later of mania) for the first time as a child, I lost the innocence that a child my age would normally/typically have.

But I gained the empathy to understand others going through similar emotions I was experiencing to the point where I am not afraid of how far thoughts can go and have learned to be there for others.

When I lost the ability to breathe on my own and was put into a medically induced coma, I lost complete control of what was happening in that situation.

But once I awoke, I gained the perspective of learning how to breathe, talk, and move and walk all over again.

Though it took me many years to recuperate, I eventually gained the physical strength to appear as a physically able person.

During the time that I had difficulty making friends and socializing (which is semi-ongoing), I felt feelings of sadness, rejection, and confusion.

But during this period, I was able to find ways to entertain myself, and I would escape by reading, writing, and creating art.

In those moments, I was able to find the sprinkle of liberty.

And although my losses have not been very drastic (in my eyes, compared to others’ experiences) nor have they damaged me in irreparable ways, letting go of something, whether by choice or by force, has taught me what I am capable of overcoming and has allowed me to grow.

Losses are still scary to me.

I’ve recently lost things dear to me, but have gained things too.

Sometimes I have the opportunity to say goodbye gracefully to my losses, and sometimes I don’t, but I try and will continue to try to see that sprinkle of liberty.