I’m right here, right now, in the thick of it. It’s physical, emotional, whatever else you want to name it. And it hurts. I hate it. It washed over me yesterday as I dropped off my youngest son after he came to visit for the first time in our new home. I felt it for hours before I actually had to drop him off.
The heaviness starting to take up space between my throat and my gut. I felt flooded with sadness, with loss. More than having to say goodbye.. again. But the knowing that I no longer have a “family home” that is close to where his friends are, where his father is, to where I have lived my entire life.
I don’t live “there” anymore. And there are moments, like this one, this moment of the past 24 hours or so, when I feel the impact of all of the changes going on around me. Changes that I initiated, that I made consciously, by my own hand. Changes that I know are for the good on many levels.
And yet. The part about not having a home near where my kids are going to want to spend their off-time from college is hard. It’s more than an adjustment. It’s another loss. And I’ve kind of had it with loss. Part of me wants to rail against loss. Every moment of loss for me seems to call up every other. I am not even close to being “over” the death of Sam, my youngest brother who died about 16 months ago. Most days I still gasp with the shock of it, the tears wanting to flood me at some point or another.
Sometimes I let myself cry, sometimes I divert. There are times I don’t cry because it makes it hard for other people. Times I don’t cry because it’s just too draining. Times I don’t cry because I am trying to train myself to live in the present-moment and notice what is right here.
Grief and loss are a kind of going backward. Such an intense longing for what was. And you can’t have it. There is almost nothing that will ever be the same. And there is a part of me that is still so filled with grief from so many losses along the way. Some people are better at sublimating these feelings. And at times I am able to do this.. but many times it catches me and I find myself in the midst of it…longing for my dogs that are not here anymore, for my brother, my father. For the young family, my children under my roof and that stage of parenting.
Everything changes. It’s the nature of life. I get it.
I feel guilty for the grief and sadness…which of course makes it worse, harder. The guilt is a useless second-level (my term) emotion.. what gets piled on top of the actual feeling, that makes the actual feeling worse than it is. The judgement that comes with guilt of course makes it worse.
I feel guilty anytime I know that I should be appreciating all of the good that is so clearly the bigger picture.
And guilt can be instructive. It reminds us that a correction is needed. And my mind knows that. Knows and understand and believes that all is well. My children are thriving. I am thriving. The changes that have been made are all good.
And my heart still aches for what was. And for having to let my youngest go faster than I had to let my oldest son go. To make so many changes at once that all feel and felt right, but at moments like this feel like a weight in my heart. And what do you do? Nothing. At moments like this in the past (and truth be told in the car yesterday) I would eat. In the past, I would eat a lot. It would take more food and more binge-y kinds of behavior to distract me from the true pain. Yesterday was a cheap candy bar after about an hour of deep sadness. Today was a mix of some not very good food, with some good meals. And the old patterns of detouring, the recrimination and focusing on the eating and food wants to take over. But I don’t go there anymore…maybe for a few minutes. But not really.
This time I decided to write it… something so very personal, which I tend to keep out of my blogposts. But on this dreary Sunday, with Andy watching back to back football, and Nicky gone, and Luke not here until tomorrow, I am feeling all of the changes. All of the goodbyes of the last 6 weeks. I am feeling the disruption and the uncertainty. And for today I can be with and know deep sadness.
And just as I am wrapping up.. a tiny miracle. A beautiful loving note from a friend, a healing friend from afar.. it seems like everyone I love lives so far away.. some farther than others, especially today. But there was the note, and it was perfect. And it let me cry-for the incredible blessing ofbeing seen and heard without even asking to be seen or heard.
There is love and goodness in my life. I am blessed. Very. I know it and have a strong practice of gratitude. Even in these moments. And it helps. So does crying when I need to. To clear some energy. Drain some off the top as I frequently encourage my clients and loved ones. And now a drink of water. A bit of healthy sublimation to finish a case study for a certification course. Some time with my husband. All is well. Feelings show us how much we care and they need air and expression. Some feel better than others. Writing is a good thing to do.
If you read this, and you would be willing to talk about a moment when you moved through something similar I would love to hear about it.
And as always, I am here. Heart open and with lots of ways to support you as you move through your own passages and seasons. Just write to me at Lisa at IntuitiveBody dot com.
With love heart to heart…