I love the rabbit hole that I fall into noodling around on the web. Especially when I find a blog/website that resonates with my current head space. Lately, serendipity leads me, I'm drawn exactly where I need to be.
Reading along, I learned that the death of someone close to this person caused a radical self-love-change-up. She changed her job, her location and how she operates in the world. When her world came crashing down, she chose to find the beauty in her grief and act positively.
In that moment I realized that my own experience with grief was the opposite of what I was reading and I didn't want that to be my story. Somehow, up until that moment, I didn't understand that my story could be anything else.
When my sister died I wallowed in a sea of grief. There was so much that had 'passed away' concurrently, (moving across the country, closing my practice and then retiring), it was completely overwhelming and I let myself be overwhelmed.
I'm not beating myself up about it, (everyone has their own way of dealing with profound grief), but I see that I chose the cup half empty by focusing on all that I'd lost.
And there's a part of me that feels shamed by admitting that until very recently, I continued to focus on all that I've lost over the past three years. I've stood in the middle of the smoldering ashes like a phoenix, which I thought was power-full and now I realize has kept me both smoldering and rooted; a holding pattern of stagnation really, because I've held myself so firmly in place.
When my sister died I wallowed in a sea of grief. There was so much that had 'passed away' concurrently, (moving across the country, closing my practice and then retiring), it was completely overwhelming and I let myself be overwhelmed.
I'm not beating myself up about it, (everyone has their own way of dealing with profound grief), but I see that I chose the cup half empty by focusing on all that I'd lost.
And there's a part of me that feels shamed by admitting that until very recently, I continued to focus on all that I've lost over the past three years. I've stood in the middle of the smoldering ashes like a phoenix, which I thought was power-full and now I realize has kept me both smoldering and rooted; a holding pattern of stagnation really, because I've held myself so firmly in place.
