It’s a been a week.
I’m not sure there is any part of my being that is ready to step forward into the strangeness of living life without the presence of Mum and Doug.
Yet, here I am.
The loss is as recent as the blink of an eye and the wipe of a tear as it is but a distant memory from another year of losing Doug… followed with another heavy loss in the blink of an eye and a wipe of a tear too soon feeling like distant memories of their own with Mum… and then, again, in paradox like it was only yesterday.
Time… a fickle beast with attached hidden personal agendas of what is perceived as healthy and unhealthy grieving periods by those navigating the loss and, albeit unintentional, those bearing witness.
My friend and mentor, Sonia Bavistock who writes The Thread, recently published a beautiful piece about “The action of exploring an unfamiliar area – age 38”. You should go give it a read.
It’s raw, vulnerable, beautifully written and an insightful journey into how we berate ourselves for lost time of not living life how we wish we could have lived it, to now watching the landscape of the life wished to be lived opening up before us and feeling ready to take those first tentative steps willingly exploring that which is unfamiliar but welcomed and wanted.
Sonia’s post resonated with me so much and I found myself meandering back through my own life going over lost opportunities to “be me” because I felt I lacked the confidence, was constantly coming up short believing in my worth or telling myself it just wasn’t the right time OR that old chestnut, what will people think of me – fear of judgement is an ugly companion in every sense of its unpleasant meaning.
Then after I’d sifted back through my own life I started reflecting on conversations I’d had with people close to me lamenting about how they wished they’d have stepped into the life and work they are doing now many years ago; how they wished they could have stepped in to their true selves sooner; how different life would look and feel for them now if they had and how much further down the track to living a life of joy, abundance and personal peace they would be.
After some sifting through my thoughts I arrived at a conclusion of sorts and contributed my ponderings to Sonia’s comments…
“I truly believe that all the pieces of ourselves, mind, body, spirit, soul, past trauma, present awareness, thoughts, feelings all join hands and step forward together to walk the paths we’ve longed to walk (or indeed want to walk) when they are all ready to support and encourage each other forward and not a moment before. ‘No man (or woman) left behind mindset’ to all those parts of us – not one part dragged forward by the others at any time. Only stepping forward in unison when it feels right for them all.”
Each piece of you that is required to step into your future landscapes and navigate the new terrain have to develop at their own pace and be kind and considerate to each other’s progress… even the fear.
That’s what life experience is for, that is what time is for… the learning, the nurturing, the development, the blossoming of all pieces that come together in unison when they feel complete enough to join hands and step forward in support of one another.
Only there is a slight flaw in my offered conclusion.
It fits well with the passage of time and the clarity and awareness it affords us when we choose to embrace its gifts of becoming yet another iteration of our true selves… and that is a magical thing. It becomes a beautiful packaged gift of ‘choice’.
My theory does not fit well when you are given ‘no choice’… when you are thrust into unfamiliar landscapes by grief and loss of any nature, not just bereavement. When all the pieces of life experience over time, the learning, the nurturing, the development, the blossoming in unison for your complete package of navigation is actually incomplete in its unison.
What then?
What do you do when you are pushed into an unwanted landscape without the pieces of yourself that you so need to be ready?
Because this is where I am, right now, as I write, I can tell you this…
You tend to yourself… all the pieces of yourself.
You cry with the pieces that need to cry, you sit in silence with the pieces that need silence, you create space for the pieces that need space, you offer kindness and nurturing to the wounded pieces that need time, you make micro choices in navigation with the pieces that feel they are able and then you gently cradle and carry with you the pieces who are unable, setting them down to rest without expectation of joining hands and walking beside you in unison before they are ready.
Some pieces may never be ready and that’s okay.
Because from somewhere within you there are pieces you didn’t even know existed who step up.
They step up enough to get you by… they know there is no life to go back too… the landscape and terrain you’ve been thrown into has changed forever… you’ve had no say in this, no choice.
And in those moments, when you’ve drawn strength from the earth angels around you because you feel you have no strength of your own, those pieces of yourself you didn’t even know existed will be just enough… they’ll be just enough.
The unison needed blossoms from the tender nourishment of all pieces of self and from honouring where each piece is at with compassion, along with the gift of the fickle beast that is time.
Even when it hurts, even when it’s strangeness is beyond comprehension and especially when you are screaming from the depths of unchartered valleys “I’m not ready!”
Hi From Sandra is a reader supported publication so please consider supporting my writing by buying me a cuppa, becoming a free subscriber or sharing my posts
It takes intense bravery to notice and acknowledge everything you've spoken about in this piece. So many people are moving through their life on autopilot, not wanting to know (not brave enough to want to know) what's under the surface - because then they'd have to face it and do something with it. You, my love, are one of the brave ones. Noticing. Acknowledging. Facing. Doing. x
Untethered is a word which sprang to mind when I read your comments about “life as it is now” and the “what” of how it can proceed. I learn a lot from your words and others too. I am someone who will be, one day, I am surmising “left” like this. Not comparing. But I know that I have two people closest to me, who are, more than likely statistically, to leave this earthly presence before me. I can only imagine. And I also cannot I imagine too far either because that doesn’t help. So I am, at 73, having survived cancer, doing what I can to appreciate the “what is now” and take those steps I can into this newish life of ours back here in Sydney…take care, and I always value your insights and knowledge. Denyse x