It is interesting how sure we can be about something one moment, and then feel so lost the next.
This is the ebb and flow of life. Ever changing.
There have been many shifting situations in my life these past few months, and especially these past few weeks.
Some you know about. Some I have yet to share.
I debated on divulging this situation for a long time, unsure of what would be appropriate.
Even more uncertain because of the changing currents in mood that come with mental and chronic illness.
I will be okay. I am not okay. I will make it through.
I have been sure for a long while that I would weather everything with barely a glimmer of change necessary in my work.
Today I was reminded that my mind can be unpredictable, and just as progress isn’t always linear, neither is grief.
Like so many others, my family has been touched by cancer.
We are dealing with a process that is so common and yet one from which we are so removed.
I have lost loved ones in the past, but none have felt so immediate and complete as this.
There is a sense that nothing will ever quite be the same.
And yet I know these tides will change.
And life will move on.
We will not forget, though memories may dim.
We will heal, even if there are scars.
We will continue to love, feel joy, falter, and cry.
I am giving myself the gift of patience.
An offering of stillness.
Accepting the changing currents of grief as they come and go.
To not let new beginnings be marred by endings.
Even as this means letting go of ideals.
I will allow myself softness.
And a slowed pace.
Time to grieve.
And space to mend.
I wrote this very different sort of posting at 5:30am, after a night without sleep. When we have the tendency to push through, to add more to our to-do list instead of paring down, the greatest gift we can give ourselves is the acceptance of imperfection. As my family and I continue through this process, dealing with the decline in health of a loved one, and the unavoidable future, I am striving to maintain what I have set forth in this blogging venture. At the same time, I will allow myself compassion and the permission to fall short. I will keep you posted.
All I ask is your patience.
With love always and forever,