Sometimes it feels, especially when we are used to depression and trauma, that only in hardship we can have meaning.

The more time passes, the more I find myself afraid. For so long, my father's death and the hardship that followed gave me purpose. It gave me an identity. It taught me of God and spirituality and how to be positive. I became wise, thoughtful, strong. And yet, as the years roll by, I find myself clinging to that experience. Who am I without grief? Who am I without earth-shattering loss? How can I effect the world once the dust has settled? Where do I find my momentum? How can I continue to grow spiritually, without some great conflict?