It has been far too long since I have written anything. It has been a dark few months. I have let myself drift through the waves of grief and be lost a bit. I have let the numbing effects of work, obligations, and how I am “supposed” to be handling all of this sweep me away day after day. People do not want to talk about it, and honestly, neither do I. Life goes on, as it must, but I have felt stuck as I wrestle with the memories and images of watching my mom suffer those past few months of her life. I keep asking myself if things could have been different. Was there anything I could have done to save her? I keep ruminating over all the times I told her that she would be ok. She believed me… and that makes me feel as though I somehow failed her.
I have been exercising, although the very things I just listed have affected the frequency and I can feel it. What was once 3-4 (sometimes even 5) times a week has become 1-2 and that has made a difference, not a positive one obviously. Strength training, running, even walking… or moving in any capacity really… affects my mind and emotions tremendously. I can feel the chemicals in my brain shift. When I intentionally move my body, it burns off anxiety and lifts depression. It causes the dark clouds to lift a bit… ever so slightly, creating enough light to see beyond the storm. It allows me to catch my breath and feel alive. It gives me strength to take another step. It provides me with clarity and permits me to see the possibility of happiness and a life without the storm.
So why don’t I do it? The problem is having the energy or strength to take the first step and just get out the door with the intention to move my body. It requires an intentionality and the realization that I NEED it to help heal what is hurting. I NEED it to cope. It isn’t about the appearance of my body, or trying to lose weight. It isn’t about obligation either… it’s because I know it is the medicine I need to heal. I know it helps and is a way back to my healthy self, yet I remain in a rut each day… giving reasons and excuses why I can’t or allowing my family to provide reasons why the gym or a run doesn’t work that day. Why?
There is so much that I am processing from the months leading up to losing Mom. Sometimes I wonder if I have even begun to grapple with actually losing her yet. What I do know, from the losses and grief of the past, is that grief or any other suffering, is not meant to be endured in isolation. We are meant to connect to others. Physical movement is crucial physically and affects my brain chemistry. That is huge and one of the most powerful tools I have. However, I also know that relationship with others is just as vital. My experiences and suffering over the years have taught me how important connection with others is. The problem that I have with connection is that I am here, living three states away from the only life I have ever known and while I have my amazing children and husband… there isn’t a real, true friend in sight. We have lived here for over 5 years and it has felt so lonely, so isolated. We have struggled to find a church home and even though we have made friends, it has felt empty here. It is different when you have friends that know you… really know you. That has been elusive here.
Regardless, I know what is needed to recover in this season and connection is crucial. Not only has connection helped me through incredibly difficult times in my life, but I have also been able to take what I have learned and offer comfort and help to others. That is truly the point and benefit of pain… not only that we might grow and heal, but that our pain would produce a source of wisdom, comfort, and support for others. That is why I am writing. Maybe no one will read this, but if someone does and I can offer even the most miniscule source of comfort or help, then my struggle and pain have been worth it.
So, where do I go from here? I know the steps I need to take… I just need to do it. I need to start moving. I need to find connection with others. I need to pray and trust. It all starts with one step though… one decision. It all starts with some kind of movement.
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