I’ve been grieving a cycle

I fell to my knees last night, in what felt like the first time in a year truly feeling the weight of all that has changed, all that has felt “lost” and all that has broken my heart since march 2020. 

I spent much of this weekend crying.

You know when something happens and it triggers a whole cascade of emotions that won’t stop pouring out of your eyeballs?

Yeah.

I went to Maine on Friday, I needed to give myself some time on the road. It’s been almost two months since I’ve lived in my van. 

I realize this weight I’m feeling is the grief for what I didn’t see ending, or changing so abruptly. 

I was about three months into living my “dream life” when Covid hit and I found myself with my van left across the country in AZ, as I got “stuck” in my parents house, “unable” to fly back west after coming to NH for a few days of work.

It might sound silly, because it’s “just a vehicle” but I am realizing now that I felt like I abandoned my van. If you’ve ever lived in a van, or had a special connection to an inanimate object, you may understand that my van is not just my home but feels like a friend, or family member. I think it has a soul of it’s own. I mean, it did find me from 2,000 miles away through a craigslist ad in the middle of the night…

I put together this video of some of my favorite moments from one year ago. I was so happy. I was truly and remarkably in love with my life. 

While getting “stuck” in NH not only did I feel like I abandoned my van, I realize now that I felt like I had abandoned the part of myself I had been falling so deeply in love with. 

I know since last march we have all experienced our own forms of loss, discomfort and pain. And it looks and feels different for all of us. 

I put on a pretty strong front over the past year, pretending I wasn’t being affected, or simply just knowing that other people had it worse than me. But now I am seeing that this last year rocked me in my own ways, van dramas aside. I said goodbye to a lot—people, places, jobs and more.

I tired my heart out, telling myself everything is fine and it’s selfish for me to feel sadness when other people have more significant challenges. I convinced myself I could just keep finding myself in newness. I see now that I’ve been grieving a cycle of who I’ve been in hopes to find myself in anything other than myself, here and now.

And to be honest, I really freaking love the person I am, here and now. She’s funny and uniquely vibrant, she’s bold and stands up for herself. She is beautiful and kind, open hearted and resilient. She’s creative and joyful, charismatic and passionate about creating a world where everyone feels loved.

My goal has always been to do the best I can in making sure people don’t feel alone. So, if you’ve been in it emotionally lately, I feel you, and you’re not alone. 

Grieving is a process, and I don’t know everything there is to it, but what I have come to realize is that it comes in waves, and we must feel it all. Grief is a part of the rollercoaster ride of being a human on planet earth. And it’s okay to grieve not just those who have passed but also it is okay and necessary to grieve the parts of ourselves that have come and gone, the experiences that once were, the relationships that no longer look the same as they once did, the houses we’ve lived in, the cars we’ve driven…

It’s okay to feel it all. 

I love you deeply.

And if you are in need of some extra community support this weekend, I would be grateful and honored to see you at my vulnerability workshop on Saturday March 6th. Grab your ticket here. 

PS This is not meant to be a “sad” email…this is meant to be a reminder that as humans we are STRONGGG AS HECK, definitely never alone, and most importantly I invite you right now to take a deep deep breath and put your hands on your heart. I see you. I feel you. 

grab your ticket for Saturday!