The Climb is Lonely


"At some point it may just be you and God. You have to be okay with that."

Those words stung. They sparked a fire. They burned; because I needed to hear them, but I wasn't yet ready to accept them. I wanted to believe that those who had been in my corner for so long would remain there. I thought they'd root me on from the stands as I sought to pursue my purpose, much like they rooted for me to "back it up" at parties or to "throw it back" when it came to drinking games. (Back then, of course).

I was certain that those I ran through the mud with, would be with me when it came time to clean off.

"At some point it may just be you and God." I've always kept those words close to me, in case I ever needed to remind myself. I hadn't planned to refer to them as often as I do, though. It still stings a little.

The climb to the top is lonely. I would've never expected it. I always thought that the people you held dear to you would grind with you. When I was a sophomore in college my roommate at the time was chasing down people and running errands with me, as I prepared to join my sorority. She made sure I woke up early enough to make phone calls and reminded me of things I couldn't remember on my own. I expected this climb to be similar. I expected this pursuit to be filled with support and love from those around me.

I was wrong.

Nothing could've prepared me for the sarcastic comments and the misunderstanding stares. It wasn't ridicule that I was experiencing - I could handle ridicule - it was the lack of support. It was the "I'm so happy for you!" and the "you're going to be great at this!" messages that were missing. Messages that would've been overloaded onto my Facebook wall and in my text message inbox had this dream been something people could understand. Had it been a new job opportunity or a raise, I would've been celebrated, because people understand 9 to 5's and increased salaries.

People rarely understand writing, though. They rarely care about God-given purposes and utilizing God-given gifts; especially if neither of them come with dollar signs attached. People don't get how I plan to make writing a lucrative career; nor why God would tell me to walk away from some things they thought were major, so that I can focus on this. People don't understand my vision.

I probably shouldn't expect them to.

Walking in my purpose, thus far, has been reminiscent of a quiet road. A road that only I and the tumbleweeds occupy. Lonely. And sometimes cold. A road where the flickering street lights aren't enough to illuminate my path. A road where GPS and Siri are disabled because my iPhone died a few exits back and there's nothing else leading me but the voice of God. Walking in my purpose has been reminiscent of a road being traveled completely by faith and determination.

The climb is lonely. People tend not to support you until you're already successful. Your eyes are fixated on your final destination and locked into where you're set to go, but other people can't always see that. The people around you may not understand why you chose to walk the path you did. They won't get how (or why) you plan to turn a hobby into a career; they'll never understand why your decent paying job isn't good enough for you; and they certainly won't be happy with the time you must spend away from them to make it all happen.

So often times I sit still. And if I'm not talking to beau (shoutout to beau!) about my goals and plans, then I'm praying to God about them. Because the climb is lonely. And even if I only have two supporters on my side, that's all I'd need, because there's no room for more than me on this ladder anyway.

This is what I'm supposed to be doing. This is the path I'm supposed to be on. This is the ladder God set out for me to climb. And instead of throwing it all away, finding an alternate route, or using a step chair, I remain here because this is where I'm supposed to be. Because there's someone out here that needs to read what I'm writing. Because there's an amazing sunrise that will come once these next 12 hours on this lonely road pass.

In the meantime, I do what I can to press on. I encourage myself. I push myself. I remain faithful in my vision and bask in the glory of God's power. I root myself on and leave positive affirmation post-it notes all over my desk space - because who doesn't love post-it notes? I send myself e-mails saying "write!" and "keep going!" with clever quotes and daily reminders as to why I'm doing this. I read articles, blogs and books that encourage me to ignore what's around me and fight through to the 4th quarter.

And while I spend a lot of my time encouraging and supporting myself, I'd be remiss if I ignored the few people (and things) that I've allowed to fuel me on this road. The Brendon Burchard's, Rick Warren's and Renita Weems'. The sermons provided by my Pastor; and the readers, subscribers and new Facebook friends who unknowingly make me go harder. I'm supported by my future unborn children, my future husband and the broken women who rely on my outlet for inspiration and uplift. I'm supported by God and Jeremiah 29:11.

And that's all that matters to me. Because me diving face first into my purpose isn't to garner support, it's to help someone's life. It's to be a vehicle for change in someone's world. It's to provide hope and happiness to those at wits end - those whose hope left a few social media posts ago. It's to eliminate self-loathing in a woman who's never truly loved herself. It's to encourage someone to love life through the potholes and detours. It's to push someone to keep fighting.

This is about the souls I may be saving by acknowledging God's everlasting love, power and presence; and the favorable views of self-worth women so desperately need to be led toward.

The climb isn't my destination, it's merely a route. Whether my supporters will increase once I reach the top, is none of my concern. I don't do this for that. I do this because someone's life needs to change and my words may be a catalyst to make that happen. I do this because some things in my life need to change, and sometimes when I write to you, I'm writing to myself too.

So don't let your abandoned road and the lonely climb deter you from what you truly desire. Don't let anyone else's inability to understand your vision or see your dreams pull you away. You'll be great no matter what. And while at some point it may just be you and God, you'll learn to be okay with that. 

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