I promised to warn people when I was going to talk about death, this post will talk about it.
I don't know how to classify 2023. There's something wrong with me where I see every year as a good year because I'm alive and here to experience it. 2023 was tough, but it's no different. It was a good year, but it had some hard times.
I spent most of 2023 waiting to see an endocrinologist to figure out what was going on with my thyroid. I swung from hyperthyroid to being normal for a minute to hypothyroid.
The hyperthyroid brought the worst anxiety I've ever experienced. I dropped a lot of weight and felt like the scary music that plays in a horror movie right before something terrible happens was playing all the time. It created a deep dread inside me that hasn't gone away yet.
The hypothyroid brought on one of the deepest depressions I've ever experienced and made it hard to do my normal day-to-day things. I put on a lot of weight and felt like I was walking through chest-deep water. I was grateful for a lifetime of dealing with anxiety and depression so that they were not able to wreck my life or destroy my business.
I wouldn't trade any of it because it taught me that, at the end of the day, the only thing we can rely on is God, and this is now the most essential part of my daily life. It has transformed me and is the only thing keeping me level as the world spins into a kind of chaos I've not seen in my lifetime.
More than anything else, 2023 was the end of many things for me, but this also means it was the beginning of many things.
We lost my uncle, my grandma, and my aunt, all within a few months. My grandma was my favorite person. She always made me feel like I was special and worthwhile no matter how I was behaving. Her house in East Texas might be the most special place in the world to me, but somebody else lives there now.
My aunt and uncle were both unexpected deaths and more difficult to process. My aunt's was so unexpected that when I saw her name on the mailing list for this newsletter a few weeks ago, I wondered what she thought of it because she was always a good writer. Some deaths make sense, while others catch us off guard. We had a little bit of both last year.
I moved out of the house I've lived in for the last 22 years. It's hard to explain how much of my life changed in those 22 years. I showed up in West Texas in 2001 as the messiest person I knew. I had just gotten out of jail after rolling my car into a field with no seat belt on, I had a terrible relationship with the soon-to-be mother of my child, and I had no business being a father.
The first few years were shaky, but that house provided a quiet place away from all the chaos I'd created to get my life in order. I ended up having a great relationship with my oldest son, getting along well with his mom (we're still friends), going to college, earning 2 master's degrees, meeting and marrying Barbara, and having two more kids in that house.
It wasn't all easy, and there were definitely some hard times, but when I look at who I was when I moved into that house, I'm filled with a deep sense of gratitude because that guy has no business being as happy and free as I am now.
We put that house on the market and received two great offers right away so, like my grandma's house, someone else will live there soon.
I've driven a truck my granddad gave me for the last 14 years, but I bought a new car, and we'll be selling the truck in the next few weeks. It feels like everything is wrapping up and changing for the next chapter in my life. I know that this is because of our human tendency to turn everything into a narrative, but it's hard for me not to notice how many things that are central parts of my life have ended and how many new things have begun in the last year.
Like I said, there was a lot of hard stuff, but there was a lot of good stuff, too. I'm grateful for all of it, and I wouldn't change anything because that's above my pay grade. I can't exaggerate how much the sense of trust in something larger than myself has grown over the last year, and I can't think of anything that would cause me to trade that in.
I will think of Sweet Ever After by Ellie Holcomb when I think of 2023. I have no idea how many times I listened to it, especially during the 40+ hours of driving I did at the end of my grandma's life.
I appreciate you reading the words I wrote last year. I appreciate everybody who clicks that little like button, leaves a comment, or sends me an e-mail about them.
Thank you all.
James
I believe one of the marks of a maturing life and spirit is the ability to look at all that has gone before in one's life and see that, however awful or good the experiences were, one has been able to glean some wisdom and growth in a good direction. That certainly seems to be the situation in your life, James, and your sharing of it is a gift, and an encouragement, to the rest of us: there's hope yet. Thank you!