Grief

I read an article on grief this morning. What each of us is feeling as we live this surreal unreal existence. Waking up every day to this new reality of confinement sadness depression (shall I admit to these uncomfortable out of my zone feelings?)

Loss is such a small petite word which does not do justice to the overwhelming restrictive missing being who I know myself to be.

It feels a bit like yoga. Which I am not good at. As I am forced coerced to be still quiet. I thrive survive pushing challenging myself knocking things off my to do list. Engaging interacting doing being. My being is doing.

Which is why I jog hike strength train push myself breathless.

And yet I am forced to be still. To take a deep collective breath.

While jogging over the weekend I inadvertently pulled a calf muscle. It stopped my cold. And I reached out to my people to be collected. Something I have never done before even with some serious bleeding missing pieces injuries.

But I stopped. The dawning awakening that taking away removing my capacity ability to leave get outside of my house my family myself. To jog under blooming trees and feel connected to the beating heart of something larger than myself.

I start my run and find my rhythm feeling the music I have selected that reflects my mood or desire or hope inspiration. The first mile down and I feel lighter better hopeful as I consider weigh how my body feels. How far to go. How much to push or ease back. Knowing that whatever I do will end with me feeling better happier. My good mood drug of cardio.

To consider that this might stop. To feel more loss. One that has provided enabled an escape. One that saved me through past losses and grief and tragedies and so very much pain. The release of emotional pain is what jogging has gifted me. The acknowledgement that I am still in the game of life. Still going moving forward. Hoping to never stop.

So any pain ache spasm discomfort. Used to be slight distress now anguish. My own special place of comfort. Gone.

Immediately I imagine the horrendous moods of more loss and isolation. More imprisonment. And I worry (just a bit) about the others. The ones with whom I live. The ones who must share in my castle of solitude for the (un)foreseeable future.

And I have but one single solitary thought.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?

(Breathe. In out. Perhaps it’s not so bad.)

FUCK FUCK FUCK

(one of my favorite words and studies show that cursing helps to alleviate stress. Which I am feeling a bit lot. A holy fucking lot!)

I ordered new shoes knowing that mine were past their prime. They had not yet arrived. I cursed all of anything that prevented their arrival at my house in a more efficient manner.

(Yes, I know food is more important. To some. Still don’t get the toilet paper but whatever.)

The box of new shoes has sat unopened on top of the dog crate we use for fosters. Our current foster is not a fan of the crate and prefers to sleep on the floor of our bedroom. Thus a shoebox holder it has become. It has been waiting for me.

I have been still for days. Still because of my calf. Still for a pandemic. Still as I don’t know what to do. Which direction or path to take. Is there a forward. Just feel stuck.

My dedication to halting my run. My call to be picked up (rather than walking all the way back home). My lack of pushing moving doing. Forced to stand sit down.

Has resulted in my calf feeling much better. So much that I opened the box this morning and wore my new shoes around for a bit. To be sure. To break them in. To feel their comfort and hope and promise of freedom and lightness of being.

It’s supposed to rain tomorrow. But perhaps Thursday. I can go out again. I might try a walk first this evening. Just to test it out. Just to feel that release relief that comes with doing being engaging mind and body.

Grief multiplied. Divided among all of us. A need to take long breaks from news and social media. Distancing socially intellectually. From all loss. Lives cut short. Celebrations cancelled. Separations from family and friends.

(I feel an immediate roll of thunderous fear devastation throughout my body thinking about my mom. Not being able to see her. Not knowing how cognizant she is. Hoping not so much. But wishing she could feel see be comforted by our presence. And chocolate milkshakes. Knowing that her limited time with us has become more so. Knowing I should be with her)

Not knowing how to navigate this. All of this. Overwhelming.

Need to take one step at a time. Not think too far ahead. Stop planning.

But don’t ever (never) stop dreaming.

Allow sadness and grief. And then find solace in something. Look outside (of yourself)

Picture of us on Haleakala (Maui) last summer after a morning that did not go as planned, dreamed, anticipated, desired. But happiness still. Just being together.