The truth is, I struggle a lot with being so vulnerable online. I don’t like to open myself up. I don’t particularly want to give people a glimpse of the inside. But I do it for the “Me too”.
Those two words might be the best two words I know. They validate. They let light wash in on what has been hidden deep in darkness for so long it hurts. Those words unravel the lies and start a healing restoration.
It’s no wonder those two words started an entire movement.
They are powerful.
When I think about some of the most freeing times of my life, they involve those words. Because I bit down hard on the most poisonous of lies that I was the only one. I was alone. Everyone else is normal and I am a walking talking basket case.
It’s this lie that keeps us hidden and alone and afraid. It’s thinking we are the only one that traps us in and holds us hostage. But when you do let the pain and struggle slip out, and someone utters those two magic words “me too”, so much light comes pouring in and drives out the ache.
When I wrote my first blog on madisonhuff.com, I struggled. Was it too much? Did I say too much? Would people still use me as their Realtor? Would it cost me business? Would people think I was insane? I honestly still don’t have answers to any of those questions. But when I finished that blog and posted it, I will never ever forget the people who called, text, sent me messages saying, “me too”.
I will never forget a voicemail on my phone that said, “ I read your blog, and me too. It’s like you wrote my life story and thank you for sharing.” Since then, they have poured in. Since then, there have been so many “me too’s”. Sometimes, sharing about the struggles and chains that bind us, is all that can set us free.
Every story I write I struggle with the vulnerability of it. Business people can’t reveal the cracks. Professionals can’t show pain. Class can’t crumble.
But I was born broken.
I will die broken.
Struggle will always be my story, but also, grace.
I don’t have it all together. I leave grocery stores and cry the whole way home because life hurts. I meet people and smile in pain because the day is tough and the night is dark, and you know what?
So do you.
We all act like we have it together and the sun is always shining. We all laugh to keep from crying and hide the pain.
When we are sober, and not drowning in distraction and attention and accolades, we all cry when no one is watching. We are all aching and afraid.
I am no different than you, though the darkest lies have tried hard to convince me so. With every word I type, I fight that lie. I battle it out loud here and now in this text.
With every word I type, may you know, you are not alone.
You may feel weak and tired and afraid.
You may want to pull the covers over your head and wake up on a brighter day.
You may want to cry the whole drive home and beg God for more, and for this cup to pass, and to give you what it takes.
You may want something so badly you’d give every breath in your body.
You may see no way out but pain.
You may feel unloved and unworthy.
Me too.
You are not alone.
You are heard and known and seen and loved.
You are valued and cherished and bought and paid for.
Me too.