Tag Archives: love

The Caretaker Of Broken Dreams

The Caretaker Of Broken Dreams..

“We’ve buried dreams, laid them deep into the earth behind us. Said our goodbyes at the grave, yet everything reminds us. God knows we ache, but he asks us to go on… how do we go on?”

~Ellie Holcomb

I’d been wandering through the same leaves, the same graves… struggling to remember exactly where he was. It had been years since I’d placed my hands on the earth that held what remained of a brother I never got the chance to know.

The caretaker must have seen my wandering. He gently approached me and asked who I was looking for. I couldn’t help but notice the kindness in his eyes… his voice. He didn’t ask me what grave I was looking for, he asked me who I was looking for. I told him my brother’s name and he gently led me over to his grave… mere feet away from where I was standing. And isn’t that the thing… so often when we feel utterly lost, we’re closer than we know to finding what we need?

I traced his name with my fingers, brushed leaves off his grave. Funny how we want to tend and take care of things for people we love who are gone. I think sometimes these small, tender acts simply remind us of what once existed, remind us of what’s been lost.

I never used to visit the cemetery. When they put up a memorial for children who’d died in a local park and my brother’s name was etched into the stone, I didn’t want to attend the ceremony. Who wants to feel the weight of that loss again and again? For many years, I’d it pushed down, held it at bay, the pain and grief of loss. I thought that maybe if I held it down, swallowed it deep, maybe I could avoid the crushing ache of it.

And for many years… that worked. Or it worked as well as it can when your body is holding onto an aching sadness. Because the thing is, you don’t just lose a person, you lose the way it feels like your life should have gone. You lose what you thought would be your life. And you can only hold that for so long until it comes busting out.

25 years after losing my first brother, I lost the only other brother I’d known. And his loss was sudden, traumatic, and crushing. What was the last thing I said to him? Did he know how deeply I loved him? Was there something, anything I could have done to save him? That loss sent me reeling, and yet I quietly pushed it down. How do you put words to grief that shakes the foundation of what you thought you knew?

Three weeks after losing him, two surgeons took out my womb, and my hope for carrying more children ended more abruptly than I was ready for.

Although, who is ever really ready to bury a dream?

And in the months that followed, it felt like I dug a grave of loss so deep I’d never climb out.
I buried a brother, then the dream for more babies, a job I loved, a place I loved, a marriage, the life I’d known for the last decade of my life. All buried in quick succession. And in burying those dreams you bury other things. You bury relationships, spaces, and places that you once fit, things you used to be sure of, your sense of worth and belonging.

And again, I pushed it down, held it at bay… Until I couldn’t anymore. One morning several months later, I woke up and the tears came and wouldn’t stop. They bubbled over until my body trembled at the weight of what they meant. I was fully feeling the loss. And they’ve been coming ever since.

And at first that scared me. I felt ashamed. Was I falling apart? Was I weak? Why couldn’t I keep it together? Why couldn’t I just put my chin up and move on? Life is hard for everyone, and my trauma is small in comparison to other people’s. So why was it a struggle just to get out of bed and face the day?

The caretaker told me there was someone with the same name as my brother and asked who he was to me. I told him that was my grandfather. I thanked him for helping me find my way and watched him go about the care of a place that holds many buried dreams. My eyes scanned the sea of graves and I wondered… How much care and compassion must he have to know the names on gravestones? My breath caught at the nature of his work. But more than that my eyes welled at his kindness.

I knelt next to the grave, raked my fingers through the ground, rolled up my sleeve and laid the tattooed ashes of one brother alongside the grave of another. And my heart broke at the beauty and devastation of that moment.

It had taken 27 years… but I was fully feeling the loss. I was acknowledging that it mattered. Sometimes we need to say their names. We need to speak about the broken places. We need to dig our hands in the earth where our dreams have been buried. We need to allow grief to be part of our story instead of trying to move forward as if we are the same. Because we aren’t.

I ran into a dear acquaintance at the grocery store recently who looked into my eyes and genuinely asked me how I was. The care and compassion on her face was evident. And as we embraced she said something I will never forget “I’m on your side… no, there are no sides… I’m in your corner.” I looked at her and nodded “No, there are no sides…” I repeated. She told me how she’d read an article recently about how no one brings casseroles to people going through divorce. And she reminded me that it’s okay to gather up your people and weather the storm with them, without explaining where you went. She reminded me that sometimes the places and spaces we so desperately wish were a safe place for our pain, simply aren’t. And that maybe the beauty in all of this is that we can be a safe place for someone else walking a similar road someday. Because there is nothing quite as healing as knowing you aren’t alone.

So how do we go on…? How do we put one foot in front of the other in this life that now feels new and unfamiliar? How do we make sense of the loss, acknowledge it, feel it, and yet still move forward? How do we live it and not lose ourselves in it? My deeply insightful answer is this: I don’t know. I don’t know how to do this well. Maybe none of us do. There is no manual for this. No one can tell you how to bury dreams and carry loss well. We just find our way, wrack our hands through the dirt that carries our loss, and attempt to wrap our arms around people walking a similar road… letting them know they aren’t alone.

And cemetery caretakers and women in grocery stores may just be balm to our wounds, if we let them. What I find deeply beautiful about pain… is the way it brings out compassion.

So might I say something? Today, be the cemetery caretaker and help someone who is a little lost find their way…. Be the woman in the grocery store and stand in someone’s corner without needing to know the story. Be the balm to someone’s wounds. Err on the side of compassion and write the note, send the flowers, make the casserole, pay for the coffee of the person behind you, wrap your arms around someone. Give them the balm of your kindness, help them find their way. Or, kneel next to them in the dirt, ask them how they really are, and trace the pain of their losses. It’s what will help them go on.

Death, loss, divorce, the estranged family member, illness, childlessness, financial crisis… the list goes on. We’ve all buried dreams. We’ve all racked our hands in some kind of dirt and whispered “this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.”

I sat there for awhile, arm stretched out, brother next to brother, fingers etching a grave, hands feeling the dirt. And then I looked up to see the caretaker tenderly digging in the earth. I don’t know why. I do know it felt an awful lot like love watching a man carefully shovel dirt and tending to loss in such a profoundly intimate way. Maybe we could all learn a thing or two from the caretaker who spends his days carrying losses and helping people find their way.

-Michaela

Today Is The Day

My last blog I wrote about how hard the month of October is for me. As I write this, it’s the day after the day. I’m not a hundred percent what to refer to IT as. The day my marriage ended?

I mentioned it before I recognize my ex husband was not my person. But I still feel like I failed him and my daughter.

Believe it or not that is not entirely what this blog is about. It’s about how I remind myself what I did is the right thing. For the record it garners me some serious heat and it started seven years ago.  Selfies.

It may be easy to assume and MANY do but they are my reminders.  I survived, I am growing. I made it. I am becoming who I was. Who I was meant to be. They remind me that him yelling at me is not ok. He did that and since we co- parent or try to… still does.

Initially I did like people’s reactions to my selfies especially when I started losing weight or getting a new tattoo, but when I have a run in with my ex husband it was good to look at these pictures and see who I am becoming. To remind me -him yelling at me is not ok, and that it’s definitely not now.

When we were together compliments were rare. As someone who has struggled with my appearance it hurt even my partner couldn’t give me a simple one. Instead it was lots of criticism in regards to how I looked and eventually that worked its way into other parts of our lives. Emotional abuse is something Mommas. I am working my way slowly toward being able to share more about that, but for now, I’ll just say and some of you, sadly lots of you … know. It’s something. Something not good. And hard to come back from.

When we met I wore fun clothes and did crazy things to my hair. I had just started adding on to the few tattoos and piercings I had, when I left my ex husband I  was incredibly overweight, gone was the fun hair, fun clothes and my fun spirit.

Hear me when I say this. I am not saying that appearance is important. But I am an artistic person, I express myself through my hair, my clothes, how I look. That was taken away. All the things that made me, me, I was encouraged to put in a box. Ironically not so for him. My ex husband loves Leggos and Star Wars and The Simpsons. Thanks to me he has oodles of T-shirts that let you know that. That he still wears.

During a recent conversation with my favorite aunt she said to me “I hope you’re keeping those things on your heart for later.” All the things I can’t write or say that I lost. I am, in a picture. A silly selfie. That tends to drive people bananas, but it’s not for them. It’s for me. To remind me I made it. I am making it. I survived, I am surviving. I grew. I am growing. I am moving past it. Or trying really, really hard to. I am taking parts of the old me back and starting to become the person I have always wanted to be.

 

Be kind to yourselves Momma. None of this is easy. But when it gets tough, remember who you are- a Mom and that is pretty badass.

 

<3 Caprise

Dating Over 40

Hello all,

Have you ever heard the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over expecting different results…. Well that was my life up until three months ago.

I tried several dating websites/apps and always, always hoped for the best. As a joke I like to share with my friends and family, I’m a gluten for punishment.

A breakdown of events that led up to dates or lack of dates. I would pick a dating app and then go through the routine of setting up my profile. I would come up with my username, something cute of course, my profession, age, and a few words to describe what I’m looking for and a little more about myself. I would then proceed to look at the profiles of men that matched up with things in my profile. After a short time, I would receive a message from a man who would want to know more about me.

This is where it gets challenging, more often than not, most of the men I would message back and forth were not from where they said they lived. You guessed it, I was being cat-fished. A few if those men claimed to be in the military and they asked for money. I knew right away what was happening, so needless to say, they were blocked.

I wasn’t asking for much in a match, a man who had reliable transportation, stable housing, and stable income. A man who has his sh*t together. The last man I dated, from December of last year to February of this year, claimed to have his life together. That was further from the truth. He was not even divorced and while he was with me, he was already on to his next victim. I was heartbroken of course. More so because I gave him the benefit of the doubt, I trusted him.

I finally learned after several, several, failed attempts, to always listen to my gut and intuition. Going through the process of crying and moving on, my friends would listen and give me words of encouragement. “It happens when you’re not looking for it ” “It” being that magical feeling of being in love and having that love reciprocated. I would nod in agreement and then go into skeptic mode.

I like to think I’m a hopeless skeptic romantic.

Fast forward to June of this year, I reconnected with an old friend. We went to high school together and briefly dated in 2010. I’m not sure what the future holds, but one thing is for sure, he is the most honest, caring, thoughtful, and genuine man I have ever known. We have so much fun when we are together and more importantly, according to my gut feelings and intuition he is the real deal.

I am living proof that being tenacious works. Never ever giving up what you want when it comes to love. It is important to remember that the light at the end of the tunnel may be dim, but with supportive, encouraging friends that light eventually gets brighter. Dating is hard, especially when life is crazy and hectic, but to know you are enough and worth so much makes dating less stressful.

~Anne Smith

No Need To Defend Yourself

If you’re on a mission to be a better mom, you may already know a lot about transforming your thoughts, changing your mindset and healing the broken parts.  But did you also know that when you are full up in love with YOU, there is never a need to defend yourself?

Yup!  That’s right.

Sit with that thought for a minute.

Then think about the places in you, where you currently defend yourself.  Think about the places where  you’re triggered to argue back or where you shrink down & say nothing but are screaming on the inside.

Those are the places that still need healing, forgiveness, and most of all LOVE.  Because when you love you, I mean allllll of you.  The good, the bad AND the ugly….. you will not have a need to defend.  All your weaknesses, all your scars, all your mistakes.   All your shortcomings, all your ridiculousness, all your wrongs.  All of it!  LOVE them.

AND claim a new story while you’re at it.  Change the adjectives you’re using.  Look in the mirror and remind yourself you are beautiful.  You are wonderful.  You are 100% amazing from head to toe.

Think of the places where you may feel threatened by someone else’s words.  And know ‘a sense of threat is an acknowledgement of an inherent weakness’.  Yup! If you are threatened… you are agreeing with their words.  Do you know your truth?  Do you love all of you?  Do you accept every inch?  Then whose words of attack could alter you?  Nobody’s!

Remember ‘defense stems from fear, not love.’

Today start a new habit of acknowledging what is great about you and write it down.  The next day add another thing to the list.  And the next day, another.   Eventually you will be so flooded by your own greatness that nobody can say anything that would cause you to defend.

Just Love.

Tracy

Be Her

Be her….

Do you have girlfriends you can call who will support you in your greatness? Girlfriends who will send you love over the phone or be with you to give you hugs? Girlfriends who understand no justification is necessary and love you even in the mess you may find yourself in?

Girlfriends know what to say and how to be and what to do. They sit when times are tough, they lend an ear when your words won’t stop, they hug when you’re falling down. They laugh from the belly when you do something Crazy. They watch your kids when the sitter leaves you high & dry. They bring a meal when you can’t get out of bed. They cry with you, giggle with you and rant on & on with you. Girlfriends know what to do.

Are you that kind of girlfriend? Do you stop your nonsense to lend a hand? Do you reach out when you’re tired because you know your bestie is having the worst day of her life? Do you care and love and give and hold? It takes a lot to step up and be that kind of friend. It takes courage and compassion and selflessness.

Be the one who someone calls because she knows she can count on you. All Day.

 Be the one who puts smiles on faces, sends birthday wishes & opens her arms to others.

 Be the one who at the end of the day puts her head on her pillow, down right knowing that she stepped out and gave of herself to another with nothing but honest, authentic giving.

Be Her all day long. Truth. Real. Raw. Your giving opens up space & gives permission for your girlfriends to Be Her too.

 

Your God Girl,

Tracy

Our Chaotic Bliss

Our Chaotic Bliss…

My mother always told me that I could achieve anything I wanted if I worked hard enough. A common message we hear all the time growing up. I didn’t want to be an astronaut, or a lawyer. I wanted to be a mother, a wife, and someone who helps people. Seems simple right? I’m writing this in my overgrown, tattered sweatshirt, my hair in a messy bun on the top of my head, and not the cute kind most women can get away with, in the dark, next to my snoring husband, letting Ed Sharron carronade me.  Go ahead and ask it…. Why would anyone take advice from a disheveled mom? I promise, I don’t have all the answers, hell most days I don’t know how I will tackle the endless amounts of tantrums, school lunches, work disasters, and then some how need to whip up a healthy dinner that most of my kids will refuse to even touch. But I have figured out how in the middle of our Chaotic bliss, raising 3 kids all which come and go to 2 households, stressful jobs, marriage, bills, and needing to keep up with Pinterest perfection people, how to be happy with being me, the mom with the messy bun.

This will not solve your problems, it will just help remind you that you aren’t alone. We are a fearless tribe of badass creators that were born to make the world a more positive place one day at a time. I guess I will start from the start of my quest for positivity. Like most everyone I hit rock bottom. Not the actors and actresses rock bottom that somehow with their glam squad they emerge from the depths of hell looking as if they were in a Pageant. But the gut punched, eyes swollen, couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, oh did I mention I was pregnant, with a toddler in tow. My rock bottom was when my now ex-husband cheated on me. I’m sure most of you reading this are shaking your head thinking, get in line honey you aren’t the first, and won’t be the last.  Well this ripped me from limb to limb, shook my beliefs in faith, marriage, and who I was to the core. I didn’t believe in divorce, but damnit I didn’t believe in someone imploding my self-worth either.

I knew I wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t either clearly. But I also knew we had the worlds most perfect daughter, and a son on the way. Everything I ever dreamed of came crashing to a halt.  After time I could handle that our marriage was over. I just couldn’t fathom that my dream of my family was shattered. I’m one of the rare people who was blessed to be raised by parents who have been married almost 4 decades. I did everything I could think of save our marriage, our family, and our kids futures, but nothing worked. I refused to beg for reasons, attention, or rational, I just couldn’t handle one more lie.

My father told me, in the middle of the puddle of what felt like endless tears. “Mark my words in 2 years from now you will be married.” Yeah, sure. I’d rather die alone than put my heart out there again. Fast forward to the day I met my currently snoring husband. I sent a message on Facebook to someone I thought I knew. Get ready for it your going to call me out, thinking I’m bluffing.  I sent it to someone I thought I went to college, who had gone in to the military. I was thrilled at the thought of sending him a care package. Instead I got a message that was rather curt and annoyed me. “I’m not who you think I am, sorry.” I looked at my mother who had come to spend time with me, appauled, as I was sure the entire world was out to get me at this time and muttered “Wow what a jerk!”

We had one mutual friend on Facebook. We both sent her a message, without the other knowing. I watched as the 3 bubbles of truth popped up. I waited with baited breath to hear what sort of creep would be so rude.  Much to my disappointment she raved about him. “Oh, He is WONDERFUL! He is the male you, you will just adore him” I still claim it the was pregnancy hormones that made me take the leap of faith. Hell, what did I have to lose, I planned on dyeing alone at the ripe, crusty age of 89. I let him know that I was mistaken, and I apologized for bothering him.

You know the rest of how it goes. We didn’t stay apart. We talked for 14 hours a day on and off for months. I verbally exploded. Some how he was safe. In the middle of my train wreck of a life, he made me feel heard for the first time. It was the haziest time, and some how the only time in my life I leapt before I looked. Oh, I should have mentioned I’m a planner. A planner of everything, and if it didn’t go to the plan I had in my head I derailed. I find it ironic, I have seen just about every romantic comedy on the planet and they have it right. The moment I wasn’t looking, I wasn’t available, I wasn’t ready, he showed up. But here is what they don’t show you. It’s messy. It doesn’t look flawless. He farts, and it smells horrific. I get frazzled and get snappy. I don’t always look like a pageant girl, I rocked shirts that had baby snot, and coffee stains. But, it was real. It was raw. It was imperfect. It was moment, my heart ache made sense. I had to lose what I thought I wanted and needed, to end up with who I was meant to grow old with and raise my children with. He challenges me. He is a pain. Lord knows he is sassy as anything. He is also the same man who loves me when my spinal issue acts up. He loves my children as his own. Who some how taught me to love the things I hated about myself in the gentlest way.

We are on this journey together. I hope my ramblings will give you comfort and remind you, you’re not alone. Life isn’t perfect, but there are incredible sprinkles along the way that make the dark times, have nuggets of positivity along the way. Positivity doesn’t happen, it’s a choice. In the hard-horrible times to search and dig as deep as needed to find the tiny pulse of hope, happiness, and positivity. Most of all, life wont look perfect. It’s not an Instagram post, a Pinterest idea, or a Hollywood movie. It’s challenging, frustrating, messy, joyous, and is chaotic bliss.

 

Stay Positive and Kind,

Rah- Rah Rachel

In Their Absence

I feel myself getting stronger in their absence.  Their voice, their laughter, those little things they did to make me smile…they’re gone.  BUT the way they touched my life, the love they put in my heart, and how they changed who I am in this world…..those will never ever go away.  They are part of who I am today.  And THAT is a beautiful thing.

Do not spend your time coddling the trauma of someone’s passing, for it will only create a stagnation of sorts, a halt of what is coming to you and almost bring about an uninvited complacency.  It will pull your joy from you and leave you feeling hopeless.

Instead, rise above the discomfort, reach beyond the trauma, give up the upsets.  And Be Who You Are Meant To Be.  Do not allow their death to stop you from living.

Ohhhh and if you let go of the anguished memories of the bond that keep you awake at night, if you release the darkness you seem to hold onto in spite of the pain and you move beyond the grief you still experience….you will NOT let go of the relationship.

Letting go of all that will only enhance your experience of love.  Although they are gone….you are still connected and you will always be in relationship with them…it just looks different.  There is comfort in that, isn’t there?  KNOWING that beyond what your mind can comprehend, beyond what your eyes can see, beyond the veil… your loved ones watch, protect and wait for you.

As you sit and reflect on those you’ve lost… may you remember the beauty, the love & the joy you shared and hold onto THAT.

Rise Up, Forgive, Reignite, Step Out, Embrace and LIVE LIFE in their absence.

So take yourself on.  Step outside the comfort of the sadness and find joy in it.  Find the joy that they brought to you and share it with others.

 

Your God Girl,

Tracy

You Don’t Have To Be Perfect

You don’t have to be perfect…

Aside from being a Mom, a teacher,  and writing for this incredible page, I also host a radio show.

Once in awhile my daughter co-hosts. We have a strict recording schedule so it’s important we get to the studio on time. As it got closer to going the other morning I went to G who was on her iPad and told her time to go. She didn’t really move.

I continued to round up our stuff. G was still on her iPad. I tapped my watch “ we gotta go”

“Ok,ok…”

We got ourselves together and got to the station with time to spare as we always do.

As we were sitting down getting ready to record I said sorry to G and told her I just hate to be late.

G proceeded to tell me I reminded her of these little robot dogs from her favorite graphic novel series who are always running around.

I freak out about the littlest thing. When I don’t need to, it will be ok.

I said “I just want everything to be good and go smoothly.”

To which my beautiful old soul told me that I need to be more like her and relax. Those little things don’t matter and I don’t need to be perfect.

It’s days later and those words are sticking in my head. I am actually considering a new tattoo.

I’m kinda not kidding. You know how badly I needed to hear that? Especially from her. I have mentioned this before. I have a lot of Mommy guilt. The massive amount of guilt that I have held onto is by no means gone, but I think moving forward I won’t beat myself up so much.

I will work on taking a step back. Slow down. If I’m being honest this is all going so fast and I feel like because I worried so much about being perfect, things being perfect I missed out on things with her.

I worry about her entering her teenage years and being mad. I never thought to think I was spinning around so much tightening corners and straightening crooked pictures (my analogy for my life) that she might not be mad but just breeze by.

That to me would be much worse.

Good, bad or otherwise she is my sun, moon and stars and I was so busy building a perfect universe I forgot to enjoy it.

So every night I go sit on her bed and ask her about her day until she kicks me out of her room.

I let her pick the music in the car so we can sing along.

I found a Mother/Daughter journal so even on those days she won’t talk at least she’ll write.

But most importantly I heard her. I hear her. I listen.

I don’t have to be perfect, the most important person in my life said so.

And neither do you Mommas.

<3 Caprise

I Miss You

I miss her…

Over the last few months I have been deliberate in who, what, why I follow and friend on social media. I have enough stress in my life I don’t need my mindless scrolling to inadvertently add to that. I’m what you might call a daydreamer and a night thinker.

That’s code for I’m an overthinking insomniac.

Regardless my feed is full of videos, destinations and restaurants.

So when a picture from one of my favorite restaurants popped up, it hit me hard.

The picture in question was a plate from a bar b que restaurant in Hot Springs, Arkansas. It’s where my grandparents lived and I visited them every summer. We always made a point to get McClards. It is a family run restaurant serving food that you can’t get in the Midwest.

One item in particular the tamale spread my Grandmother always got.

My Grandmother has been gone more than 12 years. But lately I have wanted, no I’ve needed to talk to her. To start with I wanted to tell her I miss opening my work email and finding inappropriate jokes. The woman had a wicked sense of humor. I miss our mini book club. I have a soft spot for murder mysteries because of her, but the last year she was alive we read The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood and would address each other by our Ya Ya names in our emails.

I want to tell her about G. That her spunk and quick wit shines through in her great granddaughter.

I want to tell her I am writing! Like really writing, not just in a journal.

I want to tell her about some of the people in my life.

That I wear pink now.

Growing up my Grandmother always bought me pink stuff, I did not like pink I liked purple. She eventually switched to purple, but sometimes it was our thing.

I want to tell her I still have the Levi’s jacket she bought me when my sweet parents got me a black, puffy number when I just wanted a basic denim jacket.

I still love shoes.

I appreciate a good lipgloss and lipstick.

I like wine. Even red.

I really like my job, I mean really like it. I host a radio show (!)

I keep her bottle of Chanel No. 5 on my dresser and dream of going to Paris and stealing from hotels.

I finally appreciate SOME country music.

But I will not Achy Breaky my Heart.

I sometimes eat cake for breakfast because as she’d say it’s no worse than a doughnut.

I can make fried chicken. I don’t do it  often or as well as you, but I definitely use your methods.

I just want to hear you say “oh me.” I miss your laugh.

There are pieces of me floating around that I feel like a solid talk on your porch swing could fix. I just want that.

As hard as it was to see that picture of the yumminess that is a tamale spread. It also reminded me of all that amazing things she gave me.

 

Strength

Humor

Spunk

The knowledge that size, sex and where you come from should never be a deterrent. My grandmother was a petite, southern woman from a very small town who traveled the world and ran a house, had a career and made sure I always knew I was loved.

 

I miss you.

Duchess Three Sheets to The Wind- Princess Running Mascara Misses you.

So much.

 

I realize Mommas this wasn’t my normal blog… but know I always got you.

If you will excuse me, I’m going to dig into some tamale spread.

<3 Caprise

Be Better In The Middle Of Your Grief

What on earth? How many tears can one body produce? How many boxes of tissues must you go through? And what’s up with the mad… sad… content… tears… misery… anger… denial… tears… happy….. anxiety… pissed off… acceptance and back to sad again? Welcome to the “Stages of GRIEF”.

Can you hear yourself.… “Really? Can’t I just go back to sleep and then it will all go away? What about a therapist, won’t that cure the crabbiness? I know, I know…. chocolate. That always makes me feel better? Waaaaaah.

You have good days and bad days. And the triggers come out of nowhere and at the most obscure times let alone when you’re not expecting it. And the rollercoaster ride of Grrrrrief seems to be going and going and going. When will it stop?

And not for nothing but…..

You want your life back the way it was. You want the to-do’s back in order and the schedule back on track. You really want a do-over. Why is going through the Stages of Grief so hard? Well it JUST IS. Seriously. Nobody wants to be the one left behind, nobody plans to lose a loved one, and nobody knows what its like until they experience it. Nobody can judge the length of time it takes you, nobody can heal your heart and nobody can wipe the tears to stop. Just you. If you trust God, like I do, turn to Him in your sadness and ask for healing. Do what you have to do and press on with joy in the sadness.

Maybe just maybe, when you’re on the other side of this, you can be a smile in someone else’s grief, share a hug, speak a kind word, offer a nice gesture. Do something to ease their pain because you remember how hard it was for you. But for now…..be a better you in the middle of your grief.

 

Your God Girl,

Tracy xoxo