originally written on 2/17/22

I think it’s funny, but not funny at all, how life hits you in waves.

I was in Tulum, Mexico in December, standing at the edge of the sea, letting the waves crash against my legs after eating breakfast at a restaurant on the beach by myself. The symbolism was so clear in that moment. Just moments before, I looked out into the sea while I was eating breakfast and marveled at how beautiful it was. I could admire the beauty from afar without thinking about how I would get knocked down and tossed around by the waves. I could see how strong and powerful mother nature is without thinking about how I would have to fight to stay afloat. From a distance, there was no fear, no stress, no anticipation about how I would survive out there on the sea. From a distance, I was comfortable and at ease. From mere yards away, I wanted to put my feet in the sand, feel the water on my skin and be a part of that beauty. So, I paid my bill, set my things aside, and walked into the water. Immediately, I felt the surge of pressure that allows the waves to come in and out. I noticed the vastness that is the sea. The sun seemed to shine much brighter and my eyes squinted as a result of the glare. I felt a bit powerless thinking about how if I chose to go further surely a strong enough current could just take me away. But in that same moment, I felt connected and part of a much bigger source of life. I wasn’t just me looking out into the sea. I was me: a part of the sea and a part of the world. It felt good albeit a bit scarier than looking at it from afar. Just steps beyond the edge of the tide, where I stood, the waves crashed down hard. But I could tell that if I could just push past the shoreline I would get to a sweet spot where the waves were more forgiving and the sand didn’t feel so soft and uncertain beneath my feet. If I could push myself past the shore I would find calm and would get a better footing. I questioned whether it was safe or not. Then, I realized that if I chose to stay right where the waves felt like they could drag me down and knock me over, if I didn’t keep moving, I could in fact be dragged down. So, in the calm between a strong wave, I went for it. I took a few more steps forward, into the “depths” and realized I was safe and in control. After all, I wasn’t far from the comfort and security of the beach. There, in the calm of the sea, past the turmoil of the waves, I felt strong, brave, and successful. I had pushed past fear and made it to a place where I had conquered a bit of doubt. I took some deep, cleansing breaths of gratitude and felt even more connected to source and love. I read somewhere that sometimes tears and crying are just a result of your body having such a strong unnamed emotional reaction that it manifests into tears. I cried those types of tears that day as I walked back onto the beach. The earth had taught me something important.

When we got back from Disney World in the middle of January, I felt like I was been between waves. I was in a spot where the rush of the holidays and the uncertainty of schedules had finally stopped and we were back into a routine. I was exercising and eating nourishing and energizing foods. We were getting back into consistent afterschool and evening routines. And then as soon as February hit, so did a wave of birthday parties on the weekends, crazy work schedules and busy work days where I wasn’t getting home until after 6pm some days, and family loss. We celebrated Penelope’s 2nd birthday this past Thursday, then woke up to the news that Jesse’s had grandpa passed away Friday morning on Penelope’s actual birthday. His death was expected and peaceful, but the subconsious sadness based emotions must have been brewing inside Jesse and me because we certainly felt a heavyness that lingered and continues to linger. Saturday, we taught a driving class early in the morning followed by another birthday party and then back home with much anticipation for a relaxing Sunday at home with absolutely nothing but resting and recharging on the agenda. Sunday was mostly that until our dog Hoop took his last breaths with his head in my hands in our living room during the third quarter of the Superbowl that night. For a week we had been having to carry him out when he needed to potty and he had stopped eating. So, we knew it was coming. Monday morning, we got Eleanor on the bus and I rushed to work while Jesse took Penelope to his parents’ house so he could lay Hoop to his final rest in the yard before heading to work himself. The past three days have basically just been a blur of daily activities that get us through the day and onto the next while the house gets messier and messier and my mind gets mushier and mushier. I started my period today, so maybe that’s why it seems like the emotions just want to slowly pour out of me right now. But I’d be remiss to not give myself the grace for getting through the past week without outbursts or losing my cool.

I’ve been slowing down a lot in the moments where I feel like I really want to scream. I’ve been stepping away for a minute to myself when a large part of me wants to yell at the girls for not taking it easy on me. Can’t they see I’m struggling?? ; ) I’m kidding. What I haven’t been doing is exercising or eating the foods that will nourish my mind and body. That, too, is taking it’s toll. Today, I sort of want to hide in a stranger’s empty house where no one can find me and sleep for several, SEVERAL hours with the hope that I will wake up refreshed and having floated on to the next bit of calm before the next wave hits.

I think this current wave is washing over me, but I can’t be sure just yet. Right now, I still very much feel that I’m fighting to stay above water. The thought of going home after work today to cook dinner and get bedtime going very much seems overwhelming because for the past week, I feel like I’ve been navigating the depths of uncetainty and the unknown while also trudging through the known responsibilities that wait for no one. I need to remember that here, in these depths, is where I discover and test the degree of my own strength. The strength I know will carry me through it all.

Tomorrow, we will celebrate Jesse’s grandpa and the life he lived. There will be lots of going back and forth, getting one kid to school, the other to the sitter, then the first checked out of school; there will be a lot of holding Jesse’s hand tight, letting him know that he’s loved and that I will stand alongside him as he mourns. And I think as the dust settles from the past week’s challenges, Pop’s service tomorrow and the gathering of Jesse’s family will be the reminder that I need of how much but also how little control we have. I’ll remember that this life here in this realm is what we make it. During these phases where I feel like I want to avoid birthday parties, avoid making plans, stop having more pets (the list goes on) essentially make it easier on myself by watching from afar on the edge of life instead of in the depths of it, I need to remember that by doing that I will miss out on the connectedness that comes with diving into the beauty albeit scary and wild and full of chaos. Pop’s funeral will be a reminder of the strength that we receive from the support of our loved ones to just keep going.

So, I’ll keep slowing down when things feel crazy, I’ll keep breathing, I’ll keep giving myself and my family grace, I’ll keep asking for help and I’ll keep working toward standing tall and being brave in exploring the depths when I feel like I could just succumb to the weight of responsibilities. I won’t deny that I need to find time to rest, but it’s exciting to think that I when the time does come for a little break, I will have grown, gotten stronger, and proven to myself yet again that I got this. And so do you.