Chapter Two

A glimpse into my almost finished book.

Chapter Two — The Heart Beat

In the Painting

Okay, so this might sound a little different, but just stay with me for a minute, because this is something I didn’t understand until I lived it.

I started thinking about a heartbeat. Not in a big, dramatic way—just in a really simple, basic way. When you look at a heartbeat, it goes up and it goes down. That’s what it does, over and over again. And both parts are happening as part of the same rhythm. You don’t get one without the other. If you did, it wouldn’t be a heartbeat anymore.

And somewhere along the way, I started realizing… life is like that too.

We all want the up. The good parts. The parts that feel easy and full and happy. That’s what we hold onto. That’s what we wish would just stay. And the down… that’s the part we avoid. The hard things, the loss, the pain—none of us would choose that.

But what I started to understand is that both are part of the same rhythm. And more than that, they can actually exist at the same time. You can be walking through something really hard and still have moments that are good. And you can be in a really good season and still feel something heavy underneath it. That used to feel confusing to me, like something wasn’t lining up right. But now I see… that’s actually normal. That’s what a real heartbeat looks like.

And here’s the part that really shifted things for me. Being in the low… as much as I would never choose it… it does something to you. It changes how you see the high. It makes you appreciate it in a way you didn’t before. Not in a surface way, but in a deeper, more aware kind of way. Because when you’ve had to walk through something hard, you don’t take the good moments for granted in the same way. You notice them. You feel them. You hold onto them differently.

And at the same time, the low teaches you something else. It teaches you that you can get through it. Even when you don’t feel strong, even when you don’t feel like you’re doing it well… you are still moving through it. And that matters, because it changes how you step into the next high when it comes.

But I also realized something else, and this part mattered just as much. It’s not a bad thing to step back and look at the parts of your life that were hard. It’s not a bad thing to revisit those moments. In fact, I think it’s necessary sometimes. But there’s a difference between revisiting something and living in it.

For me, stepping back wasn’t about staying in the low. It was about remembering it in a way that helped me see everything differently. It reminded me to be thankful. It helped me start creating healthier habits. It made me look at myself and grow in ways I probably wouldn’t have if life had stayed easy.

But I don’t stay there.

I don’t sit in the bitterness or the anger or the jealousy that can try to come with it. I’ve learned to recognize that quickly and let it go just as fast. Not perfectly, but intentionally. Because I’ve come to understand something I didn’t fully see before…

Life is precious.

Not in a cliché way, but in a very real, grounded way. Every single heartbeat—every up and every down—is a gift. And I don’t want to waste that by holding onto things that pull me backward.

This second chapter of my life looks different than the first. It just does. But in a lot of ways, I appreciate it more. I appreciate people more. I appreciate time more. I notice things I probably rushed right past before. The small, ordinary moments don’t feel so small anymore. They feel like something I don’t want to miss.

And I think that’s what this interruption did. It didn’t just bring me into a low. It changed how I see everything. It made me step back and really look at my life, not to stay stuck in the hard parts, but to learn from them. To let them shape me in a better way. To remind me what actually matters.

I don’t stay in those low places, but I also don’t ignore them. I revisit them differently now. Not to relive them, but to remember. To stay grounded. To stay thankful. Because those moments, as hard as they were, taught me how to live in a way I didn’t know before.

I’ve learned to let a lot of things go. The small stuff doesn’t hold the same weight anymore. Bitterness, jealousy, anger—those things try to show up, and when they do, I deal with them quickly. Not because I have it all figured out, but because I understand now how much they take away from what really matters.

Life is precious. Not in a saying, but in a real, everyday kind of way. Every heartbeat, every moment, every up and every down… it’s all part of something we don’t get back. And I don’t want to waste that.

I’m still learning this rhythm. I think I always will be. Because life doesn’t stay in one place, and neither do we. But I do know this—if we try to live only in the highs or get stuck in the lows, something in us stops moving.

And when that movement stops, the rhythm changes.

And a flat line isn’t life.

So this isn’t about getting back to what was. It’s about learning how to live in what is, with a different kind of awareness than I had before. Where both the good and the hard can exist at the same time… and still mean that I’m here, I’m living, and I’m part of something that’s still moving forward.