Good Grief

There are days I drop words of comfort on myself like falling leaves and remember that it is enough to be taken care of by myself.
~Brian Andreas

I made it through the first week of school with students. It was a shortened week due to the holiday, but it felt like ten days. No joke. If you are an educator, you know about this feeling of time expanding in the whirling chaos of the beginning of the school year. The students were adorable, excited, and ready to begin their next adventure. I felt the spirit of exploration and discovery in their energy. I will take that as a win for the week.

Coupled with the win and the startup energy of the school year was a sheen of grief. Zillow notified me that our previous residence went on the market to be sold. Cue the tears. Looking at the images of the newly carpeted, painted house that was professionally 'set' to lure prospective buyers made me finally process the grief I have stored since we moved. I am notoriously slow processing emotions; some call this denial, but I prefer the term magical thinking. It finally gobsmacked me that the place was no longer our home. I am still reckoning with my feelings about it, but the important thing is I am not running from this emotion. I am sitting with the difficulty of it. And it is OK. I will be OK.

I experienced anticipatory grief in June by collecting green things and flowers and placing them by our kitchen window. I didn't consciously acknowledge my grief then, but I unconsciously set up a memorial by the window. This was the window where I would commune with ancestors and hummingbirds while baking treats for my boys or making Sunday meals. It is already deeply missed.

In the thrum of modern life, taking time to sit with emotions is like some wild rebellion. It feels untamable. I like it.

Whatever you do, I hope you take a moment to sit with how you are feeling now and then. Leave the self-judgment outside for now, or bake it a treat and make it your friend. Let the words of comfort fall around you, and be at peace.