Your candor in living this, writing it out, and sharing it is….stunning. Not in a "bad way", mind you. I found myself reading it and thinking, "Yep, she's gonna get plastered." (like most folks might) And then, when you called for weed, I was thinking, "Well, dang, she went a bit further than I thought she would!" Then, I didn't think you smoke it. Then I didn't think you'd TELL US you smoked it! 
But when I kept reading, I found my jaw (which had dropped on the puff-puff-pass part) closing and a smile slowly spreading. And suddenly I saw something in you that I saw (and still see) in myself. If you need proof that what I'm about to say is true, I offer this: I've kicked cancer's ass 4 times (and am currently fighting my 5th fight with it), died 3 times (clinically dead), had one should-have-been-fatal car accident, was beaten (and sexually assaulted), and grew up gay as a two-dollar bill in backwoods Alabama.
YOU are the blessing, Chantelle. Sometimes God puts us through things to teach us something. Sometimes He puts us through things to teach others. There is a young woman out there right now reading this who has been cut from her basketball team and feels useless. Or who's been told she "can't" do something. Someone who feels hopeless, helpless, and stuck. I guarantee you, after reading this, that burden is lifted just a bit…for just a moment.
I used to think God was this being we had to look up to or someone we must beg things out of. Then there were days I questioned that there was anything there at all. Going past Christianity, Catholicism, and every other religion, I can tell you there's got to be something higher than me. Bigger than you. More wonderful than love, sex, good food,…and weed (and definitely better than vodka). The thing is, we all must realize that this "being" isn't detached. It's under your skin.
Every religion on this planet celebrates our connection with the Higher Being (I'll call it God for now). What is lost in translation, sometimes, is that we're a part of it. When you hurt, the body of God hurts with you. When you need strength, the body of God will cover you. And when you need a good beat-down, the body of God will sustain until Truth breaks through.
God doesn't give you more than you can handle because you don't handle it alone. Oh yes, you will feel alone. You will even "see" that you're the only one in the middle of your living room floor, writhing in emotional pain, and crying tears whose sound was choked by fear. But you are not. You were not.
I am living, breathing, very pale-skinned proof that my life does not belong to me. I have had ample reason and opportunity to lose it. But since I know my life doesn't belong to me, I don't have a right to end it. It doesn't just belong to God, mind you. It belongs to a girl in GA who makes me laugh without trying. To a woman who lives in Chi-town and dances like a silly fool—with abandon and very little shame. To a man in Phoenix who shares his life and his humor with a gentle hand and searing eyes (when you're wearing the right top). To a woman who can palm a basketball, strut better than most, and laughs with ease at herself and everything else. To those who read my writing, inspire my designs, and feel my hugs. I do not belong to myself. I am responsible for me…but there are those who trust me to do what I can to be there when they want to laugh, dance, flirt, play ball, read, critique…and need a hug.
And if you ever need to remember that…if you ever need a reason outside yourself to go on, think of one name…one person in your life…any random person. An opponent who's a friend…your dentist…your dad…anyone. And let their life be an example for you. Not things they've done with that life….the fact that they have a life at all. The fact that they breathe. The fact that they might look to you for something, anything, to tell them it's okay to hurt…to cry… to bend. Remember, through them, that the body of God won't let you break. And if you have to….I'm Emily. You can think of me.
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