The past 18ish months have been quite the time for deep, pensive pondering. First, my unplanned but necessary career changes. Then a pandemic rolled in. Then we lost our dog. Then suddenly discovering my mom was riddled with cancer and losing her almost immediately to it. It was all too much, way too much.

My way of dealing with it all was to step back and get quiet. My prior way of living–the going and seeing and striving and trying to be 8,000 things at once–was no longer an option. Even if the world wasn’t still shut down, I definitely was. It was time for me to be still and stop fluttering about. Move the speed setting from 1.75x to half speed. Make time to listen and learn from anything that could teach me.

The massive grief of life piling up like it did was absolutely NOT a gift, but it did very graciously open a door for me. I found my own emotional anechoic chamber quite by accident, and in there, I was able to hear the two faint tones that remain in a soundless space: the sound of my blood pushing through my veins, and the zing of my nervous system collecting and sending information across my body. I came to understand that this is my foundation. My center. As long as I am here on Earth, I will be in this body, and it will always be here to bring me back to now. Now may never be perfect, but it is always real.

I’m boiling it down severely, but this has been a hell of a journey. One of grief, mental and emotional health, and pretty deep self-acceptance. And I’m still on it. Therapy is a wonderful thing. So is stretching out somewhere quiet for 15 minutes when things get overwhelming, learning something new, seeing friends, or petting cats. Healing comes in many forms, all of them small and slow.

I’m still thoughtful, still working things out. But getting there. Smiling on the inside even if you get my 😐 face irl. Ready for more life & living. And maybe making posts that are just cool photos. Much love ❤️