When it rains, it pours...
As I sit here in my fuzzy leopard print pants and UofR sweatshirt, listening to the rain hammer the roof, wondering why on earth there aren't proper gutters on this house, I can't help but think of the phrase above: "When it rains, it pours." It's a little on the nose, given the weather, but it also rather sums up the last year and a half of my life. I got the one-two-punch of losing both parents within 6.5 months of each other, which on top of my considerable grief brought tremendous new responsibilities. I'd like to say that I took excellent care of myself, but it would be more honest to say that I took the best care of myself that I could at the time.
It's amazing how grief can hit us. Of course, while there are similarities in the process, it's unique for everybody because no one else has exactly your experience because no one else is you! Even if we have a tribe, it's possible to feel alone. We have one foot in the world of the dead, pouring our love and energy like water into the memory of our loved one, the "past life" we lived with them, and the loss we feel at their absence, while keeping (or at least trying to keep!) one foot in the world of the living, the here and now, which eventually becomes the future. I was working really hard to process my grief -- I joined a bereavement group, spoke with my therapist twice a week for several months, enjoyed immense support from friends we'd met through LLS/Team in Training, took an extended leave of absence from my job in order to do all the administrative and caregiving work that had fallen in my lap and to tend to my mental health. I meditated, I prayed, I walked, I painted...and even still I got stuck.
If I can offer one piece of advice, it's this: don't give up on your life purpose, which is to evolve. Don't rush yourself, either. Take the time that you need to grieve, and get support while you do it. And when you start feeling that nudge to get on with your life, listen to yourself. You won't necessarily know how you're going to adapt with your loved one gone. You don't have to know! You just need to be willing to discover your way.
This is why I became a life coach: in order to be of service to others who are experiencing a life transition, or to those who want to create meaningful change in order to live an abundant, love-filled, high-vibe life, and also because I refused to give up on my ability -- nay, my duty! -- to evolve, even though I had no idea what I was doing.
Ironically, I nearly backed out of the program because I was still so vulnerable that I thought I was uncoachable and could not be of service to anyone. But I wanted to BE caochable, and I wanted to use my experience to help others. I wanted to move forward. I love my parents and I miss them every single day, but my life is in the present, and they are, sadly, in the past. Deciding to be coachable was me deciding to live in the present, to learn to accept the things I cannot change and to have the courage to change the things I can. I still have moments when the absence of my parents brings me to my knees, but they're moments now, not months.
If you're ready to create meaningful change, I would love to have a conversation with you about partnering to make it happen. Bear in mind that I am not a therapist, and I am not a consultant -- I am not trained to help you work through deep emotional issues, and I won't tell you what to do. Coaching is a partnership, where I guide you to your own wisdom. I can make occasional suggestions, if you want me to, but this process is meaningful and empowering because it is about YOU finding YOUR WAY, not me teaching you my way. Please reach out. I'd love to hear about where you are in your journey and for us to decide whether we'd be a good fit.
I'm going to make myself another cup of tea and enjoy a few more cozy minutes before I have to go out in this rain. May you be safe. May you be happy. May you be healthy. May you be free from suffering and live with ease.
