I often have thoughts of positivity and forward thinking and I am so grateful for those feelings propelling me forward. Sometimes things in our lives hit us hard and knock the steam out of our engines. We slow down, not because we want to, but because grief gives us no choice.
My mother used to read me a story when I was a child called The Little Engine That Could. The little engine chugged up the hill saying to himself “I think I can, I think I can,” and one day he finally made it. That is going to be me. But right now I feel like I am at the bottom of the hill looking up. And today- even though I had an honest day’s work and I took care of the necessities of the day- I’m having a hard time breathing. So tonight I am going to focus on just that.
For me, and I am curious as to whether or not others feel the same, grief is a physical sickness. Grief sets in and feels awful. You suffer a setback and often times you don’t see it coming and the weight of it all tips you over the edge and the gains you’ve made slip through your fingers for a moment, a day, or longer. Grief feels like a heaviness in the chest and shoulders. It is slowed functioning. Slowed coordination. Weighted eyes. Slowed response. Tightness in the throat. And most of all- a real sense that my body is asking for my mind’s help in breathing. Sometimes the process of healing goes all the way back to just breathing and being still.
When grief is surrounding your heart~ sometimes the answer is just to be still, clear the mind, and breathe. Learning to just breathe is not easy. The day gets in the way and the mind cannot settle. But if you think about going back to simplicity- it is the first thing you do when you enter this world and the last thing you do when you leave it. In my life I have seen my son take his first breath and my husband take his last. So tonight – I will breathe out and let go of the day and the pain and loss and absence, and sit still and let love and gratitude come back to once again fill my heart.