Tag: vulnerability

Shouldn’t I Be Over This By Now?

Have you ever thought you should be over something already? That there should be a timeline on healing? You’ve had the pain, you’ve done the work, you can check the box – all healed now. But then the feeling comes back. Shows up out of nowhere. And you almost get mad at yourself – I’m healed! I shouldn’t feel this way!

I tend to treat things as a project or a class – something with a deadline. As in the appropriate amount of time has passed, so I should be all moved on by now. But every time pain or grief comes back to the surface, I feel like it’s an imposter. You shouldn’t be here, sir. I’m healed now.

But that’s not how it works, is it? Healing does not happen in a straight line. It has hills and valleys and curves so sharp you can’t see what’s on the other side. Grief circles back and shows up unexpectedly. It throws you for a loop because you’ve done so well and now here’s one of the hardest weeks and you can’t stop getting emotional about things.

Grief can be sneaky. And I’m talking about grief in general – you can be grieving a death of a loved one, an ending of a friendship, an absolutely heartbreaking breakup, the death of a dream or just a season of life ending. Grief comes in layers and sometimes creeps up on you in ways you least expect it. You have done the work, you’ve cried your eyes out and you are pretty sure you’re healed. Then come moments or events or things people say – these everyday innocent things end up triggering our pain without warning. Sometimes it’s a memory, a longing or just simply something you used to do with someone who used to be a part of your life. Suddenly normal, everyday things like the grocery store or running errands remind you of the person who used to do them with you. Or things you’d pick up for them. And heaven forbid “that” song comes on the radio at Publix and next thing you know you’re in tears over the bananas in the produce section.

A few events caught me off guard recently – I was going through a people situation and then going on a trip to visit my friends. In the past, someone would be there with me and/or for me and my healing heart did not anticipate feeling like something was missing or off because of their absence. It took me a day or so to realize what I was feeling. And then sadness and grief hit me in a way I did not contemplate the reality of.

It’s the same for holidays and birthdays and life events – when someone we’ve loved is not there in a capacity our minds had thought they’d always be. Sometimes you wish you could just hear their voice or experience this moment of life with them just one more time. It may happen when you least expect it and it can catch you so off guard. And just when you think you’ve healed, another layer of grief comes outta nowhere and you’re sobbing in your car in traffic on a random Tuesday.

Grief takes no prisoners and makes no apology for what it is. It simply collects its dues and quietly moves on. Since life doesn’t stop and things are swirling all around you, you have to find a way to live in the pain. So we figure it out and put what pieces we can back together and we move on. Bit by bit. A little wobbly at times, but stronger than we were the day before. We may live through different levels of that pain at different times, but we all find ways to move through it. Grief is just simply a part of the human experience.

Then there’s something fragile and precious that begins to happen next….like the certain type of beauty that happens when new growth appears in the forest after a wildfire. I was able to experience this phenomenon when I lived in Colorado and fires destroyed thousands of acres on the Grand Lake side of Rocky Mountain National Park. The scorched earth was no match for the new shades of green that pushed through the ashes and claimed their place in the sun. A perfect example of resilience. With less drama than the rebirth of a phoenix, these new plants quietly show up and stand their ground while life slowly moves back to normal.

That’s a lot like it is for us – as growth is born of grief, we harvest the bitter seedlings with experience and strength and enter in a quiet new way of living our lives. There’s a loss of innocence as we can never go back to life untouched by grief, but we have endured the pain and now have the chance to rise above and walk back into our lives. We painfully remember what it feels like, but have the confidence to face it again and walk forward. Our healed hearts fondly remember happy times and cherish the memories as we move on and live our lives. In doing so, we are now better equipped to recognize when someone else is grieving – giving us the opportunity to squeeze their hand while looking at them with the reflection of pain in our own eyes. Letting that speak silently – that we know and we are there for them, however they need us.

This world is made up of so many experiences and our lives intertwine with so many others – so in this life where we can be whatever we want to be, be a shoulder and a rock to someone who may be grieving. We may never know the impact we’ll have and what we’ll learn about ourselves in sharing the experiences of others.

Our time on earth isn’t a race. And don’t worry when grief or pain resurfaces, it will not undo the healing you’ve already done. You’re still standing after everything you’ve gone through. And that, my friend? That’s the miracle. That’s the win. It’s not about a timeline or a deadline or who looks better when it’s all said and done. Grieve as long as you need to. Lean on those you can trust. Ugly cry all over their shoulders. When you’re done, raise your head and open your eyes. Do you see what’s in front of you? That’s the other side of healing.

Now, go live your one wild and precious life.

Return to Solo Dining

It’s been a minute since I went to dinner by myself (that wasn’t a hotel bar/restaurant) and I recently plunged back in to the solo dining experience in the coolest way.

On a road trip back to see my family and meet my new nephew, I decided I wanted to actually sit down somewhere and eat a real meal. Usually I grab some Jesus chicken through the drive thru and keep on rolling. However, this night I wanted real food and in a cool place if I could find it.

When this option was presented to me, I was all in. I was driving home for the 4th, and a restaurant from 1776 was available? Yes please!

This beautiful place is in downtown Wytheville, VA and was one of the most quaint, happily situated buildings I’ve seen in some time. The parking lot was full – even at 7:30, and some locals even walked in from nearby neighborhoods.

As I climbed to the porch and walked in the door (that you had to push a little hard to open), I was grinning in happiness. It was all old beams and stone and wooden floors that creaked….and a giant bear with Ben Franklin glasses was there to greet me! Night made – and I was barely inside.

They led me to a corner booth in a room that may have been the original living room. It was a mix of stone and wood and the coolest lighting. The booth was cozy and creaky and just fabulous. Not the roomiest, but it worked.

The menu, surprisingly enough, was not colonial and bland. It was southern gourmet and had some surprising options. I settled on their special – pork chop stuffed with apples and spices and stuffing with garlic green beans and a baked potato. Everything was so tasty and different and I throughly enjoyed it. The idea of a sit down meal? This checked all my boxes.

The solo dining experience was intimidating and yes, a little scary. There were a few other people in the room and most of them noticed me but went about their own business. You tend to think that everyone is staring at you when you dine alone and I finally realized it was all in my head. No one really stared awkwardly or pointed or said anything rude. The couple closest to me were actually on their phones the whole time. Me? I looked around and took it in and had one of the best meals in a place that was just magical to me. There were so many historical elements to it and just imagining who may have dined there 250 years ago (and all the years since) – it was such a fun experience.

And you know what? That first step made it easier to do again. I’m on a business trip this week and tonight, took myself to a Japanese restaurant that looked to have a fabulous menu. This time I brought a book with me to see how I liked that experience. The girl at the hostess station smiled at me when I said “Table for one” and told me there were a few other people who asked for that tonight. “Are you doing a solo date?” Yep. “Good for you. You’re going to love this place”.

She was right, I did. I had a fantastic meal and enjoyed every second of it.

There were two young couples at the table next to me and they didn’t stare but shared some looks when I left. But guess what? I’ll never see them again and my experience was for me and I loved it. Now I’ve been through that and survived, so the confidence to do this again just grew stronger.

So if you find yourself in a situation where you want to try a new place or even have an hour or so to yourself, just go. Alone. Even if you hesitate or take a pause, it’s ok. In that moment, ask yourself if your curiosity is greater than your fear, and just walk in. I have a feeling you’ll be glad you did.

For me, it was taking that first step in a small town in Virginia into an historical setting where I gained a new experience and regained my confidence to dine solo. Here’s to more hidden gem experiences in unexpected places!

Rock on.

How We See Ourselves

Do you guys ever experience this?  You’re going about your own business and then someone plays a voicemail you’ve left them and all of a sudden you’re wondering if THAT is really what you sound like?  Or you catch what you look like on a zoom call or FaceTime and wonder why no one told you your eye makeup was smudged and your hair is a hot mess?

We tend to be our biggest fans and our worst critics.  We have this image of how we come across, how others see us, and how we impact others.  Only to see a picture or hear a voicemail and then all bets are off.  We spiral into a freefall thinking about how horrible we look, how much weight we’ve put on, and where the hell did all those gray hairs come from?

We tend to look at ourselves through a kaleidoscope that’s tinted with our own perspective. But you know what? That’s just as twisted as all the colors we used to see when we looked through those things. Because we shouldn’t be as concerned as we are with how we see ourselves (although I firmly believe we all need to fall in love with our own fine selves), as much as we should be concerned with how others see us. Just be kind. To everyone.

Now – let’s be straight here – I still struggle with what others think of me, but I’ve come a long way compared to how I used to be. I watched a TED talk recently where the lady was saying how we think we need “permission, community and curiosity” to have confidence. She slayed me. Really. Cause you know what? So often I’ve looked to others to raise my confidence when I don’t actually need it from them. I can have confidence in my God-given abilities, in my experience and in the opportunity I have been given to share them. If we give ourselves permission to defy expectations and surround ourselves with a community of supporters, who knows where our curiosity will take us?

So walk about in the confidence you’ve just given yourself to have and focus on others – that picture you’re wanting to see will paint itself.

Where Gratitude Outshines Vulnerability

I’m pretty sure I never put gratitude and vulnerability in the same sentence before, but it’s been popping up over the last few weeks so I’m thinking they just may be related. Or I need to learn something about it. Maybe. Probably.

A month or so ago, I had a blog draft I was working on called Vulnerability. I didn’t get very far on it because I wasn’t sure where I was going with it. It was also coming across…..well, vulnerable. And as expressive as I am at times, putting full blown vulnerability out there was not something I was willing to do. So, I scrapped that idea and threw it in the trash. There. No more vulnerability.

Except….yep. It came up again. A few times. So I guessed there was something going on. And then on Sunday, it all kinda clicked. In church, the pastor gave the obligatory message about gratitude right before Thanksgiving. But he promised it was going to be a bit different. And it was. At least for me.

He spoke a lot about gratitude and how it changes our lives when we express it. And how our relationships with others change based on the amount of gratitude we give. Or receive. And honestly, I didn’t really think about that part before because I usually try and make a point to thank people for what they do. Especially at work. But here’s the thing I didn’t realize before – I do get irritated at people when they don’t say thank you to me. Really. I often say “you’re welcome” just to make a point. I think it’s the Philly in me, so I guess I’m making the hometown proud. But while I’m trying to “raise awareness”, I’m essentially being just as rude as they are.

So while I’m working on how I really feel about that smack in the face, let me tell you about the other thing I learned over the weekend. The pastor was talking about how we sometimes have obstacles in the way of expressing gratitude. Especially in relation to God. But think about it – sometimes we do this to people around us as well. It can be pride, or a guilt complex or a comparison situation where we don’t want to look like we’re putting ourselves out there in order to admit that someone did something nice for us. This usually happens when we’re mad at that person, not very close to them or maybe, we just simply don’t like them. (Gasp! Yeah right. Like that’s never happened to you! Haha) I’ve begrudgingly expressed thanks to people I didn’t particularly care for, even worse – people who repaid my bad attitude with kindness. Nothing like self-reflection and embarrassment all rolled into one to make you learn a lesson real quick!

The one other obstacle that got me was vulnerability. It actually stemmed from the fear of joy. How does that work? Well, think about it. If we express gratitude for something that happened and we feel joy, we ultimately have this idea in the back of our minds that it’s not going to last. Joy can be fleeting. It can come out of that one thing we’ve been waiting for or working towards, only to have something ruin it at the end. At least that’s what we think. We’re afraid to feel that joy and express that gratitude because we’re so scared it’s going to be taken away from us or that it won’t last long. What we end up doing is building defenses and not letting ourselves feel that joy. Because what’s the point of feeling it only to have it go away?

That’s the point of living people! We live for the moments of joy and gratitude in our lives. (Honestly, sometimes it makes you feel more alive). I hate feeling vulnerable because it makes me feel unprotected. Unsafe. I never thought about being afraid of joy, but there was something that resonated with me on that one. Maybe I am and I’ll have to figure that one out. Not that I’m looking forward to that. Those types of lessons should really come with a warning label.

So how does this factor into gratitude and Thanksgiving? My main point to this one is that I thought I had this gratitude thing down and I didn’t know as much as I thought I did. Whether it’s with family, friends or God, practicing gratitude is something I need to do even when it makes me feel vulnerable. Or uncomfortable. Even when I would just rather not.

Our challenge is to take a look and see how much we give thanks or express gratitude to those around us. Even when it hurts. Even when we’re fighting battles. Even when it’s the first – or yet another – holiday without a beloved one. It’s not always easy and it may make you feel guilt or vulnerability or even pride, but I’m willing to bet you won’t be sorry that you did. Not only will you feel better, but your family member, friend or coworker will be glad that you did as well. I’m not pretending that your life is rosy and you’re not the best of friends with your significant other or kids or friends or your Great Aunt Sally. Not everyone’s life is easy or plainly defined. Or even happy. I get that. It can get dark sometimes. And the last thing we think of when we’re in that dark place is to be thankful.

Call me optimistic, but I believe every little thanks brings another ray of light into that place. We just have to lift our heads up and open ourselves up to the vulnerability of thanking others for something they took the time out to do for us. If theory proves correctly, it will further connect us with those we’re thanking. Especially if they’re the ones who remind us to bring stretchy pants to Thanksgiving dinner.

Enjoy everyone – Happy Thanksgiving!