Every once in awhile, in a moments notice, life turns upside down. News hits your ears and shock waves ripple through your heart. No one is exempt from these sort of moments. They are built into the fabric of life. Yet When they arrive, we all stand, stunned. We almost never see them coming… and even when we do, we are shocked that they’ve arrived. These moments- upon- moments-upon- moments, when time stands still, crash into us like a bolt of lightning. Electric and instant. They come in a wide range of shapes and sizes and feelings -- each one characterized by the blind side that they bring to our reality. Our brains scramble to make sense, our lungs struggle to take that much needed deep breath. Our hearts beat wildly as we begin the next step… Processing. Just the other night… I had one of these moments. It knocked me sideways and swelled my heart with grief. I felt heavy. Raw. And heartbroken. After struggling with Infertility for the last (almost) 7 years, I find that I am particularly susceptible to emotional trauma. Imagine a chronically ill person… they’re immune system is much weaker in many ways, and therefore more susceptible to a dangerous virus. That’s me… only I am not chronically ill, I am living in perpetual emotional trauma. It is strange to say that, but it is the most accurate way to explain my situation. It is why I am consciously and actively vigilant to protect my heart. It is why I do my best to practice self care daily. It is why I say “No” to baby showers, and newborn hospital visits . It is why I no longer teach preschool, why I nap regularly, and why I choose to submerse myself in things that bring joy to my life. My emotional well being depends on the amount of “defensive” work I do. Yet With all the work I do, to remain balanced and stable… I still know that I am going to have these blind sides… no one is exempt from these sorts of moments. They are built into the fabric of life. So… How do I cope?
Well… I first let the wave crash. The one that follows the lightning bolt. I feel all the emotion in its pure form and let it wash over me. I observe it. I acknowledge it. Without judging myself, I let whatever I need to feel rise up and be present. And then I breathe deeply. I hug. I remind myself of these important truth’s: I am not in control. This reality is painful, uncomfortable and unwanted… but it is here. Therefore, I will do my best to accept what I must, change what I can and rise above the rest. I am not in control. And then I get to work, taking care of myself. And for me that can mean many things… A crying session. Writing. Painting. A brisk walk. Pulling weeds. Screaming loudly. Talking. And Singing Tuesday night, after the initial shock wore off, and I began to process, I sang. I sang my heart. I sang on a stage, in a little bar. I stood, in front of mostly strangers, with a microphone, no musician to accompany me, and I sang. And the healing power of art took over. The music of my fellow open mic attendees and my own small set -- released the energy that had built up. It lessened the weight of the grief and sadness. It allowed me to move forward.
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October 2021
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