How a Bike Ride Changed my Life

In Spring of 2020, I had a mental breakdown that resulted in my most intense season of depression. You can read more about that here.

I knew that coming back to myself, or really learning about my new self was going to require actually being alone with myself.

You see, from 2017-2020 I had not come up for air from raising disabled triplets. Who were born at 24 weeks, spending more than five months on life support, brain bleeds, ICU stays, surgeries, three different diagnosis, lung disease, more sick days than well days, loss of my career, and social life. A good day over those first three years was defined by all of us still being alive at the end of the day, including myself. I have a memory block to those early years and felt like I was drowning more days than I was swimming.

In the Fall of 2020, with the help of my counselor and husband we decided that I desperately needed three days of respite. Simply stated, I needed to leave town with no agenda and try and connect with what was left of me.

Who was I? What would I find? Better yet, did I have anything left of me to even discover? I felt physically, mentally, and spiritually bone dry.

I was stable enough from that Spring to be alone with myself without fear of leaving my loved ones. But I was afraid to be alone. To have to be face to face in the quiet with all my thoughts, feelings, emotions, and sometimes the lack of those scared me even more.

I have a friend who has a place on SSI and I reached out to her and asked if I could use this space to try and heal.

During the weeks leading up to those planned days away I used every excuse to try and get out of it. Part of me felt guilty in leaving Ryan, with what I felt like was only my responsibility, and knowing that it was creating more work on others to allow me to heal.

ps: I would later learn that not only does it take a village to raise kids. 

It takes a village to heal. 

And not only did I need a village while I was suffering, 

I needed a village while I was healing.

My counselor encouraged me to not create a plan for my time or to put any expectations on myself. This was a trip for me. One for my body and mind to do what it needed to do. It wasn’t about anything but being real with myself.

She gave me three questions to ask myself through my respite time:

How do I actually feel about my life?

What does my body need right now?

Do I like myself in this moment?

The first day I arrived at the house, my answers were as follows:

I am tired of my current rhythm of life.

My body needs to lay down and sleep.

No, I felt that I am weak and lazy for needing rest.

I climbed in the cozy King size bed that early afternoon and set no alarm. Trying to be obedient to my aching and heavy body. I didn’t wake up until the next morning. My first day by myself in three years and I had slept for over 17 hours, yes 17 hours!

Waking up that second day, it was hard not to feel like I had wasted time sleeping.

I would later understand that honoring my physical body is just as important as my spiritual one.

After a few cups of coffee, I looked out the window and noticed a beach cruiser. Perfect I thought. What better way to see the neighborhood and beach than to ride on an iconic beach cruiser. I got dressed and hopped on the bike. I got about a mile from the house and asked myself those same three questions again. The answers this time had me get off the bike.

In that moment of being honest with myself, I realized that I didn’t want to ride the bike. I was riding the bike because I thought that’s what I should do. I never got back on that bike. I walked it home and locked it back on the bike rack. I haven’t gotten on a bike since.

I wonder how much of my life has been this exact scene played out - over and over -doing something because I thought I needed to - instead of actually checking in with myself and seeing if it was what my mind and body needed.

It wasn’t a magical moment (the bike), but it helped me understand what my counselor had been trying to explain to me for the past three years.

She wanted me to be able to answer the questions…

Who was I?

Could I be honest with myself?

How did I feel?

What did my mind and body need to do to move towards healing?

The rest of that day I slept, read, and walked on the beach. Nothing profound happened - other than being my raw and real self before God. No performance. Truly being honest and present with God about how I felt looking back over the past three years. 

I held nothing back. 

Being honest with myself that I needed more time at home to rest. Having to go back and be honest with people that, yes I have a lot of help, but if I want to continue healing my mind and body, I needed more help. And a third thing, happened that I didn’t expect - I found out that I like myself. Not myself as a mom, wife, friend, or caretaker - but as my truest self when I’m alone - I like spending time with me.

I left that trip three years ago promising to give myself more grace with the amount of help I need to move towards healing. This ended up playing out in a practical way of hiring a babysitter for four hours a week to come to the house. What I needed was not to get things done or run errands when she came. What I needed to do was take care of my physical body and in that season, sleep was slowly healing my mind and body. When the babysitter got there, I would head upstairs into our bedroom, lock the door, turn on the heating pad, turn off the lights, and set an alarm for two hours. Can I be honest with you - best $60 I spent every week.

Instead of guilting myself everyday into trying to be grateful - I actually allowed myself to feel and share my honest thoughts and experiences.

Being brutally honest in my safe circle of friends, it opened up a channel to be more honest with others.

As I was starting to come back to myself, what I thought was required of me to move towards loving my story was four hours of napping and being honest. 

But, in reality it was much riskier that that - it was letting go of the life I had envisioned.

 Curt Thompson says, “If you aren’t being real before God, then you aren’t being real to yourself and others.” Being real with God matters, some would say it’s the only thing that matters. But, what we know, what I know is that first honest real and raw moment from God, creates a space for you to love yourself and the story you are living. When that happens, you can’t help but be real and raw in front of your community. I was learning (slowly) to not mask myself in front of my Creator, but allowing Him to see my true self, no matter the cost.

Are you and I willing to risk the chaos it takes to be truthful with oneself, others, and God?

No one said it was going to be easy.

Three years ago, I never would have thought I would be back on a solo trip in the same place - much less in a space of peace with my story, being present in my body, and enjoying spending time alone.

You and I are people who are obsessed with healing. We want a quick fix for the hard parts of our life: a one-size fits all plan that you purchase and replicate that will tell you how to take that step forward into Loving Your Story.

I don’t have that for you. 

The work, our work, of learning to love our stories is an ongoing process, never arriving but always hopeful.

Hopeful that you can be honest about your life with yourself, God, and others.

Hopeful that you can listen to your body whispering, sometimes screaming what it needs. 

Hopeful that inspite of living a life you never envisioned, you can like and love who you are and who you are becoming.

May mine and your next three years be filled with more authentic moments than fake, more naps than pushing through, and more love for ourself than we ever thought possible. 

-Abby