I haven’t written a blog post in a long time. It feels like since the pandemic there has been a constant barrage of change.
It feel like life is a rollercoaster.
Here we are going up the hill again. Then we are plunging downward. The body is thrown to the left and the right. Am I breathing? Can I think?
Like COVID itself, there are some plateaus.
That’s when the unprocessed grief shows up. I try to stretch it out. I try to meditate. I want to primal scream into the forest.
For the first time in my entire life except pregnancy, I skipped my period. I’m 48. I have the night sweats. I live with a teenager and I’m in perimenopause. It’s hard. I feel highjacked by hormones. My husband is a saint.
It’s in times like these that I must hunt for the joy.
I pick out trees on the way to work that I find beautiful. I schedule regular lunch dates with a friend. I savor my son wanting to watch a movie with me.
What is grounding? What is nourishing? How can I give myself some grace?
Even with good change, change is hard. I started a new job. I could tell you lots of great things about it. But, it’s new and it’s all happened quickly.
Change is hard.
“She’s so bubbly,” they say at work. I try to bring some light down to the basement.
What they don’t know is that’s not natural for me.
I work at that. I work at it every day.
When I was pregnant I was so sick that I was on bed rest an entire fall. I love fall and I missed it – the entire thing. I vowed I would treasure all the falls to come.
Because even if winter is coming – you never want to miss the fall. Those moments of beauty – they will carry you through the darkness.