It’s 8:06pm. Breathe.
You really never know where life is going to take you. I spent a lot of today wishing I could drink myself into unfeeling grief. I wish I could tell you that I go through every day happy and joyful, with positive thoughts running through flocked meadows…but the reality is. I don’t. I work at it. I try to recognize when my head is going down. I spend a lot of time and money on therapy. I’ve walked through this past six months focusing on reframing and all that proven neuro-science brain reprogramming. This post isn’t to lessen the fact that what we believe creates our reality. This post is only to say that I am just like you and to be. Being me, flailing myself in front of you..tearing off all my exterior makes me feel known. That’s why I do it. It comforts me and I know sharing all my shit…comforts some of you.
I’ve spent a lot of time in conflicted thought over openly sharing who I am, all the good and the “bad” and balancing my business; part of which entails coaching entrepreneurs toward their life and business goals. I am a good coach. I am very good at what I do. My clients see great results, but the reality is, I am very human.
Sometimes all the positive thinking in the world can’t keep us from feeling the pain that’s part of being here.
Death affects us all.
Loss affects us all.
Depression affects us all.
So far since losing Jamison, I haven’t drowned myself in alcohol for days on end or looked for a tall tree (ok, not more than a couple times.)…by God’s grace. I share my life with you because I want you to know that you’re not alone. Actually, I want to know that I’m not alone. We all want to feel like we aren’t alone.
Losing a child hurts like hell. As a mother you feel like you failed. You feel like protecting and nurturing that child to adulthood…the only job you were entrusted with…you couldn’t do. When you couldn’t make your relationship work and you made choices you never thought you would; when things ended in a way you never expected. You feel alone. The reality though, is you’re not alone…and yeah, thank God, I’m not alone either.
It’s ok to depend on the people around us. We need them. Times in life like these teach us humility and dependence. Independence is a false sense of control. Codependence, no matter what our psychologists say, is necessary to our survival. Falling into someones arms is the best thing you can do sometimes. Let go. Stop being so strong. Don’t do alone.
All My Love,
I sit in my closet. Don’t laugh. It’s where I sit every morning, legs outstretched in front of me, heels on the bottom drawer of my dresser and my back against the wall.
My closet is where I think.
This morning, I was thinking about the what transpired over the course of this past week. Processing. Where did I go wrong; where was I wronged? How can I move forward, how should I move forward? Is there anything I need to resolve? What is mine; what is not?
If you aren’t in the know, this last week blew up into what was a very public coming out of information related to a coach I had hired; a coach I trusted, one who, in some ways trusted me. Trust was broken. I didn’t like the way I was being treated, I found information I never thought I would. I asked a question and up rose hurt hidden in the hearts of others. The tribes raged and feelings whipped about in a fury that bruised everyone involved.
Five days later the storm has subsided and we are left to clear the wreakage. To sort through the rubble to find our own pieces – to pick them up, learn what we might and carry on.
It’s tempting, when hurt happens to, “grab some chocolate chip cookies, a puppy and hide out in our forts away from the world.” I laughed when I read this comment made by a friend, because indeed, I did spend time in my closet with my blankie on my head and if I’d had cookies and a dog I would have taken them with me.
Life is a big sloppy mess. Mistakes are a part of life, whether someone slights you or you slight someone else doesn’t matter – we are all human, we all screw up. Out of our errors and the those thrust upon us, we are faced with a choice. Allow and accept reality as it is today, or fight against it. Life is as Glennon of Momastery says, “brutiful.” It’s as brutal as it is beautiful; as beautiful as it is brutal.
Anticipating the struggle is what makes the brutality beautiful.
It’s by acknowledging the pain of learning; knowing it’s a normal part of every journey, it’s by realizing we hurt others and we will be hurt that we can grow and become wise. Holding on to the reality of imperfection helps us to crawl out of our closet and take the blanket off our heads. Accepting we will never reach perfection on this plane of existence eliminates the need to live in regret.
Humanity is imperfection.
So, we sort through the aftermath, recognize our parts, clean them up as best we can and move forward. We move forward having learned that when you’re riding your bike, turning the wheel so sharply or riding so close to the curb causes a crash. We anticipate the fact that we will indeed crash again and that sometimes, we’re taken down and sometimes we take someone down with us.
As for me, it’s time to get out of my closet and back on the horse. I’ve processed what happened, determined my part; left hers to her. Sitting here any longer nursing reality means wasting the chance to turn scars into gifts that can serve.
All My Love,