Renata’s life had not been a fairy tale, but how many people can truly claim that theirs has been? There had been ups and downs, yet when people look only from where they stand, instead of from a bird’s-eye view, those low moments can feel bigger than life, almost astronomical. From that narrow angle, they allow themselves to become overwhelmed, convinced that no one else has endured the trials they have, that no one has seen the horrors they have seen, and that no one understands their pain.

Of course, this is not the truth. But try telling that to someone who has just lost a loved one, someone who has just been diagnosed with a fatal disease, or someone whose only child has fallen victim to a violent crime. When pain is not acknowledged or dealt with, it can morph into something almost unrecognizable. What began as one set of problems in a person’s path can branch out into a completely different path of problems. It is no wonder that people do, say, and feel things without a full understanding of why.

The answer almost always lies somewhere in one’s distant and not-so-distant past.

There are three types of people: the conscious, the unconscious, and the soulless. Conscious people are often in touch with themselves and those around them. They educate and enlighten themselves to improve the quality of their own lives, the lives of their loved ones, and the lives of those around them. Though not perfect, they understand, or are seeking to understand their past, their present, and their future. They know that we all have a destiny to fulfill, and that there is no such thing as “not my problem.” Being human, we carry some responsibility to each other. The same child you pass on the street today and dismiss as “not your problem” could become a problem for a future generation, a generation that will almost certainly include children or relatives you know and love.

Unconscious people are not necessarily uncaring. In fact, many people living unconsciously are, in other ways, very caring. The key issue is that they are not awake; they are sleepwalking through the narrowness of their own lives and experiences. Lacking empathy and a deeper understanding of life, they have not come to terms with who they really are, how the past has contributed to their present, or how the past will continue to shape their future. They are unaware of their true destiny or are pursuing the wrong path because they are following someone else’s direction. They are unconscious.

As painful as the past can be to confront, it is important to be clear about it so that one can improve who they will be in the future. Many people who are still living unconsciously cannot yet grasp their responsibility, or their accountability in this world. They do not realize that everything they do, or fail to do, has an effect on the world we all share.

Soulless people are just that: soulless. They are fully conscious of the effect their decisions have on others but simply do not care. They are often educated and enlightened about how their past impacts the future and fully aware of the influence they have on the lives around them. They are not perfect, but do not try to convince them of that. These people understand that every life carries a destiny to be fulfilled, but it matters little to them. The only thing that truly matters, in their case, is self-gratification.

Although many are searching for meaning and relevance in life, Renata’s experiences make one thing clear: no one can wait for, or depend on, others to hand that meaning to them. People have different motives for the things they do, and no one should be fooled by appearances. Life is not always a neat little package; what looks like one thing can easily turn out to be another. One must watch and gauge closely those who want to be part of one’s orbit and be selective, because one’s heart, life, and well-being may depend on it.

Renata’s journey had already shown which path she was willing to take: not unconscious, not soulless, but fully conscious and awake to her past, responsible for her present, and committed to walking out her destiny with her whole heart.

Destiny. For a long time Renata never thought about destiny, at least not her own. If anyone had asked her a few years ago, her eyes probably would have glazed over and she would have associated “destiny” with whatever man she was involved with at the time.

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Renata found herself crying herself to sleep, only to wake with tears still on her face. It had become a cycle. The kind of crying that no longer came in short bursts, but in long, heavy stretches that felt endless.

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As summer began to come to an end, Renata was working and starting to feel like she was gaining back some control over her life. Feeling a little braver every day, she started talking to a guy online who appeared to be good‑looking and professional. He seemed like he could possibly be a winner, so the flirtatious dance continued.

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“Look at this crap,” Renata said to her friend Denise.

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Renata was going out. She had gotten in touch with her old friend Webster, and he informed her that he was prepared to help her regain some self-esteem for a few hours. She pulled a strapless, hot pink dress out of her bag and began to get dressed, primping and taking care of every painstaking detail.

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Renata hadn’t heard from Dominic in weeks, and the silence was beginning to settle into something heavier than worry. She had already slipped back into the familiar cycle, drinking just enough to keep her emotions contained, just enough to stay in control.

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Renata was on her way to see her man again. Rather than move back in with him right away, she decided to play it safe and visit first. As she moved through the airport, her mind played out the possibilities of what this trip might entail. Would they spend days catching up on all they had missed? Or would they be holed up in his bedroom, exploring the passion that often follows a breakup? How would it feel to look into his eyes again? The questions were endless as she rounded the corner to greet him.

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Renata couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned all night, the rawness of her pain nearly debilitating. It felt like coming off a drug addiction—without the physical shakes, at least at first. But soon, even when she was completely still, her hands began to tremble. Her nerves were shot. It’s a wonder my hair hasn’t started falling out, she thought. I’m an emotional mess.

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One afternoon, Renata took Shawn out for ice cream and a quick trip to the grocery store. When they returned to the house, the atmosphere instantly shifted. Dominic sat in the kitchen, shooting daggers at Renata from every direction. She tried to keep a smile on her face, cheerfully recounting every single stop they made, a feeble, exhausting attempt to prove she was a good woman, and that everything she did was ultimately for him. It was no use. Seeking an escape from his silent wrath, she retreated upstairs to the bedroom.

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Like history, which in all its irony has been known to repeat itself, things went up and then downhill quickly. Most days Dominic would come home from work with a chip on his shoulder and looks that could kill. Nothing Renata did was right. This time, she couldn’t just retreat to a small corner of the house until it was over; he was becoming much more aggressive. Shawn had taken to going directly to his room after school, staying there until it was time for school the next day. It was so unusual for a boy his age to live like a hermit. He wasn’t even coming down to eat dinner anymore.

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Renata had to think quickly. She didn’t have much gas and she couldn’t let her car run all night. The last thing she wanted to be was stranded. ‘People always seem to come up missing in the Midwest,’ she thought. ‘And with all the woods around this place, it would take them forever to find me.’

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Renata’s relationship with God had always been a passionate one. Like any father-daughter bond, there were many times she found herself throwing tantrums, screaming about how unfair He was and questioning His love. But He was, and always will be, all that she has in this world, and He always found a way to bring her back to sanity. She depended on Him for the very breath she took, yet at the same time, she felt compelled to run away from Him in complete rebellion.

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It was eleven p.m. when the call came in. Renata saw Marcus’s name on the screen and felt that familiar pull.

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The steam of a fresh lasagna, the crisp pop of a champagne cork, and the kind of "delicious surprise" that makes a thirty-six-hour bus ride feel like a small price to pay.

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The days that followed were slow, suffocating, and humiliating. Going back to the bar to pay her tab was embarrassing enough, but the real wreckage waited at Elijah’s house. Renata moved like a ghost across his driveway to retrieve her car, her heart hammering against her ribs. She was relieved to find his car gone. She could not have handled the weight of him watching her do the walk of shame across the concrete where she had just lost her mind.

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By the time New Year’s Eve rolled around again, Renata was ready for a change. She knew that the madness which had defined her life lately could not follow her into the new year. It just couldn’t. She made her plans with a calculated precision that day. Petra, an old friend from Germany, and Denise, a new friend to North Carolina by way of the military, were going to be celebrating with her that evening.

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The leaves were just beginning to turn when Renata met Aaron.

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Life in Germany just wasn’t the same. The local currency had been joined with the rest of Europe and was now called the Euro. Where before it had been an economic advantage to live overseas, it was now ridiculously expensive. Though Renata had certain advantages being an American, unfortunately, one of them wasn’t housing. She was paying out most of the money she was making in rent.

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Starting over at home was harder than Renata expected.
It felt like coming back broke and penniless after winning a million dollars-the million representing the wealth of knowledge and experiences she’d gained during the years away. She was a different person now, standing in a place that no longer fit her. How could the new version of herself survive in the shell of her old life?

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