Tuning Out the Noise

I have spent a lot of time in the past few weeks pondering the simple statement, “Grief changes you.” There is so much about the grief experience that is universal, but it is also so deeply personal in the ways it manifests in each of us. It’s so strange to feel deeply connected in the ongoing experience of grieving, yet so isolated in my own personal journey…but that is the path of grief. We have no choice but to walk it, but I yearn for answers…meaning…connection…support…love. It has been a challenge to embrace the many changes that have come with this journey. One day at a time, right?

So what does change look like? One big area for me has been in my tolerance for “noise”. There is so much busy-ness in life, and most of it really doesn’t matter in the big picture of life. At all. I have zero patience for it! If it doesn’t bring meaning and substance to my days, I just don’t want to have anything to do with it. This is a problem for me with work where there are seemingly endless meetings and a never ending email inbox. Aside from work there are always errands to run, to-do lists to tackle, people who need things, bills to pay, etc. It is such a struggle to commit my time to those things! It’s like I can feel precious time passing by when I’m in the midst of the noise, and I just want to run from it. I’m doing my best to balance the things I HAVE to do with the things I WANT to do. #workinprogress

Another area of substantial change has been in my emotional regulation. I just don’t have it these days. I have always had a big heart and deep feelings, but right now my heart just gets bruised and broken so easily. The longing for my mom is always simmering just below the surface, and it takes very little to bring me to tears. For example, I was reading a book when we started into the cancer recurrence with Mom, and yesterday I opened the book to see where I left off. My bookmark was Mom’s PET scan preparation sheet, and that was it for me. It took a couple of hours to stop the tears. I just miss her so much! The tears seem to come readily, as do anger, frustration, and impatience, but I can’t seem to conjure up deep joy right now. I’m aware of my present tendency to react in big ways to the world around me, and I’m trying to breathe my way through it. Some days are better than others. #youhavebeenwarned

Perhaps the biggest change I’m going through is with my “circle”. When Mom was so sick, her dearest friends surrounded us in a cocoon of love. It has been incredibly important and beautiful to connect with her people at a new level. They are a blessing to me in so many ways. I also keep talking about the angels who lift and protect my heart. I’m so touched by the kindness of friends who send a card or a message, who check in, who persist in scheduling lunches and coffees, who read a book about grief so we can talk, and who just love messy little me right where I am on this journey. I am unbelievably blessed by my people. At the same time, I’m learning to tune out the noise from people who don’t fill my cup. I am being extremely intentional about my circle right now. I have time for love, for meaningful connection, for lifting others, for moments of joy. I do not have time or energy for noise outside of those things. #momentsmatter

There are many other changes that have occurred, both good and bad. My faith and love for family have never been stronger. My desire to spend every minute with my daughters and our dogs is at an all time high. My ability to focus is a disaster. My medical anxiety has reached new heights. My self confidence has been seriously shaken, and I regularly teeter on the edge of the abyss. But at the end of each day I remind myself that while I had no choice in the way Mom’s illness unfolded and the pain that has come from losing her, I do have a choice in whether or not my grief journey changes me for the better. I am determined to find a path that leads me to hope, faith, healing, beauty, joy, and unabiding love. #thegreatestoftheseislove

**This gorgeous painting was waiting for me in the mail when I arrived home during a seriously stressful week. Longtime friend, Ann Schulte, painted it and sent a note that those footprints in the sand are a reminder to just put one foot in front of the other. <cue the tears> Beautiful angel in my life. ❤