A Grateful Life Lived

Have you ever met someone new who speaks an entirely different language? You attempt conversation but soon resort to smiles and vague gestures. It’s nearly impossible to understand them—especially when it’s the first time you’ve met.

This is how I felt a few years ago when I took my fledgling steps into the world. In many ways, 2022 and 2023 were years of rebirth. I was breaking free from rigidity and fear to greet my authentic self for the first time. It was terrifying!

As I crested a mountain ridge during this morning’s run, I was reminded of that tender time, and our move to Colorado.

Why We Moved

People often ask why my husband and I moved to Colorado in 2023. My answer, however, depends on the degree to which I trust the person asking. Most of the time, that means I cite a passion for adventure and a desire to grow as a couple. While that is true, the reality is far more complicated.

Shortly after my husband and I got married in 2021, we realized I was descending into a mental health crisis. A short six months after our honeymoon, I took another trip, and this one was by myself. My husband stepped into a solo married life as I checked in to a facility—hoping to find a reason to like life in general. I was permanently gone for over six months—a huge struggle for our new marriage.

Before I came home however, we made the decision to move to Colorado in the new year. It was where I knew I could receive quality mental health care. We also saw the move as a necessary step away from circumstances that were stunting our unity and wellness. Like Joseph in Potiphar’s house (see Genesis 39), I recognized it was time to flee what I was unable to avoid. So we moved.

Those first few months in Colorado were harder than I’d anticipated. Clearly, I hadn’t run away from my own brain. My full-time job was to go to appointments, journal, feel, and stay living. Hardest job I’ve ever had. I was communicating with a part of myself I had never understood, let alone welcomed. She was raw and playful and very withdrawn. I got to know her in bitterness, slowly letting the edge melt as her softness became my own. I missed the emotional highs of self-hatred and harm. I missed my high performance culture of athletics. I missed home and stability and a job… but I yearned for childhood above all. The version of Hannah I was meeting brought forth grief and repressed memories—ones I scorned, reminding myself that they’d been repressed for a good reason. But once I came out of my little cage, I couldn’t seem to shove the hurt and feelings back in.

“Once I came out of my little cage, I couldn’t seem to shove the hurt and feelings back in.”

With the Lord’s help, I started to spread out… trusting my professional team, my husband, and my scant number of friends—the Faithful Few, I called them. I faced my terror of re-entering a church building and restarting my career. Panic attacks became less frequent and I learned to cuddle my newly-adopted dog like my inner child craved. Every inch of progress was slow—IS slow—but the view started to change. God opened my eyes to hope. To trust.

My Expectations Needed to Shift

I turned thirty a few months ago, and the runway to that milestone honestly disgusted me. Every time I thought about it, I imagined where I should be by this point in my life. Hardly any of it has panned out as anticipated. But as my birthday approached, my shame gradually shifted to gratitude. The only reason I am here is because of the mighty power of God. By worldly metrics, I “shouldn’t” have made it this far.

But I did. Because of God.

This is raw. It is supposed to be. If I had to contain the testimony of what God has done in my life, I’d be pretty grumpy. It is in realizing and proclaiming His goodness that I am finding increased gradients of freedom—depth that my caged-in life never allowed for in the past.

By worldly metrics, I “shouldn’t” have made it this far.

Recently, I found myself gutted yet again by rejection and abandonment. The downward spiral had started and I was flinging myself into it. Reckless. But it gave me the perspective of how God’s grace has changed me. It has given me hope amid the turmoil; resilience that dares me: keep your heart tender and your mind open.

I wish I were fully healed. I am definitely not there. However, I believe in a God who makes all things new—including you and I. I trust that promise. It’s why we risked moving to Colorado… and it’s why we are moving back to Indiana in May.

Why We Are Moving (Back)

There’s a season for all things—time to tear down, grieve, withdraw, and heal. Now, it’s time to go home. Now, we get reclaim moments and memories, invest in the family we love, and to fan our dreams into flame. I will miss the mountains A LOT. Living out here is marvelous and the move is bittersweet. At the same time, I know it’s time to move forward. I no longer need the mountains to remind me who I am or how I am free. I no longer want to pursue my own comfort above investment in the lives of others. So we are moving “home.”

Watch this space as more unfolds in the coming months. For now: Thank you and God bless you. I am grateful for a platform that allows me to share what God is doing, and I’m grateful for kind folks to want to read about it.

Love,

Han