Let me tell you a story about a girl in transition, a girl who began a journey to heal.
Because this is the way it goes with soul work: there is no end. There's no stop sign, no end of the road where one reaches a point and realizes the work is over.
It is always with you.
The work you have done before, the work you are doing now ... it breaks you and it builds you. You learn, you grow ... and somehow the work you are doing becomes a part of you. It evolves with time into a lesser issue but always serves as a baseline for the work you will do in the future.
I remember the day in June when Angie graduated from elementary school.
That was a good day, so good that before I went to bed that night I took a photo of myself and posted it to instagram with this caption: "just so I remember, my daughter graduated today and my trainer kicked my ass #readyforbed".
Who knew, who could have known that my mother would die early the next morning?
And now every time I look at that picture, I see it as the last documented moment of sharing life with her. When I took that photo, I had a mother. The morning after that photo, my real journey work began. Everything that I had been through before served not only as a point of reference, but as the suit of armor I would need to battle through the grief.
Battle isn't the right word but it's the only one I could think of. It's more like allowing any and all feelings to settle in and around you. Some are easier to sit with than others.
I measure where I am with time. It's been two months.
Two months is nothing.
And it's everything.
When it happened, I made the decision to feel it. No drinks, no sedatives, no escapes from my reality.
I also decided that living half way wouldn't work for me anymore. I craved real-ness. That means I became really picky about how and with who I spent my time. Because time, I've come to realize, is precious. I knew this before, but now I really know it.
Because it's only been two months, I'm still deep in this very transitional place.
I'm deep in my grief.
It's a little easier but very present.
I'm deep in the changes I'm making.
I'm deep in the realness of this moment.
I'm deep in mothering my daughter.
I'm deeply embodied in living wholly and showing up in truth.
This is the transition. The work I did before feeds the work I am doing now.
I smile more now than I did a month ago. I didn't think that was possible.
But it is.
(my blog editor is not recognizing the return key today....)