Synchronicities and Lessons in the Unfolding Journey | 9/6/2024

There is a strange rhythm to life, one that hums in hidden tones, weaving moments together in ways that evade understanding.

They call them synchronicities—those mysterious alignments of events that appear random on the surface but are tied together by an invisible thread. I’ve experienced these firsthand, particularly in matters of the heart, where intention and intuition seem to collide.

Recently, I found myself at the crossroads of one such synchronicity. A woman from my past, Jenny—not the first Jenny, but another, reached out. She had ghosted me months prior, moving in with her ex-boyfriend, leaving me in the quiet space of confusion. Then, one day, after months of silence, she called. Her voice trembled under the weight of desperation, telling stories of how she was being mistreated, burdened as a caretaker, and trapped. The compassion within me stirred.

The fool within me acted.

When she found herself homeless, a casualty of their breakup, I did what I thought was right. I offered her my home—my two-bedroom apartment, though the second bedroom was no longer available for guests, as it had become my recording studio. But, as these things go, she didn’t ask for the couch. She made her way into my bed, into my space, and in moments of vulnerability, I let her. It’s funny how the mind can rationalize anything. Perhaps God is at work, I thought. Perhaps He had woven our lives together again for a reason, something to mend the brokenness we both carried. I convinced myself I was giving her sanctuary, a place to heal. But in truth, I was only delaying the inevitable unraveling.

Days turned into weeks. We slept together, both figuratively and literally. My resolve, weak from the start, crumbled under the weight of temptation. I justified our actions, telling myself we all fall short of God’s glory.

Yet, deep down, I knew better. Her presence in my life became a complicated mix of emotional highs and destructive behaviors. Her ADHD medication ran dry, her mood swings intensified, and the drinking only amplified her chaotic energy. The warning signs were there, blazing like a neon billboard. But I ignored them, choosing instead to hold onto this idea that maybe, just maybe, this was something real.

In the quiet moments when she wasn’t there, I prayed. I cried out to God, asking for clarity, for strength to sever what was clearly a toxic tie. I asked for a way out, for I knew I wasn’t strong enough on my own to escape it. And then came the storm—both figuratively and literally. A tornado touched down near my home one night, as I drove through pouring rain, hoping to rescue her from yet another moment of distress. But she didn’t need me. She didn’t even want me there. And when she finally spoke, it was to hurl accusations at me, turning her frustration into attacks against my character.

It’s odd how moments like that can be both the breaking point and the beginning of a lesson. It was as though the universe—and God Himself—had orchestrated this entire experience to show me something about myself. How I’d allowed my insecurities, my co-dependent tendencies, and my need for external validation to rule my decisions. I’d become a stepping stone in her journey, a temporary fix until something better came along. The illusion of connection shattered, and with it, my romanticized version of what we had.

She ran back to her ex, the same one who had left her homeless. She ran back to the comfort of familiarity, even if it was toxic. And me? I was left to reflect on my own patterns—how I’d allowed myself to be a crutch, a temporary solution to someone else’s problems while neglecting my own needs and spiritual growth.

This is a pattern that has followed me for years, one that has become all too familiar. I’ve been cast aside, time and time again, when something more stable or secure comes along. It’s as if I’ve been the emotional janitor, left to clean up the ashes of other people’s lives while neglecting my own.

Yet, in this painful reflection, there is growth. God has used this experience to reveal the depths of my own character defects, the insecurities I’ve long tried to hide. And now, here I stand, not with a heart full of resentment, but with the understanding that this was necessary. A crucible of sorts, burning away the impurities that have lingered in my soul for far too long.

I realize now that I must learn to be content with myself. To find peace in the quiet moments, to embrace the solitude, and to trust that God’s plans for me are far greater than the fleeting desires of my flesh. The world may be cold, self-serving, and cruel at times, but there is still purpose. There is still hope.

Perhaps that is why I find myself returning to my creative outlets—my memoir, my blog, and now, my music. This Sunday, I’ll stand on stage and share my story through hip-hop and spoken word. I’ll bear witness to what God has done in my life, delivering me from the depths of addiction and leading me toward a purpose I’m still unraveling.

The synchronicities continue, weaving together lessons, heartbreaks, and revelations. I don’t have all the answers, but I have faith. And maybe that’s all I need for now.