better days coming
“Staying positive doesn’t mean you have to be happy all the time. It means even on the hard days, you know that better ones are coming”. I love this quote. This quote has pulled me through tough weeks and reminds me to smile, even when it’s the hardest thing in the world.
Every once in a while, we have a week that just isn’t great; time that we just don’t feel like ourselves. Easter Sunday, a holiday celebrating so many of the things I cherish about spring, set off a wave of emotions for me. This was my first holiday without my grandmother, who sadly passed earlier in the year.
My husband and I, who live away from both of our families, have been celebrating on our own for years, either due to scheduling conflicts or maintaining that very difficult balance between our two families, but quarantine added a microscope to that. It highlighted the difference in events that “should be normal,” pushing us to confront and relinquish traditions. Suffice it to say, I was never expecting to be hit with a wave of grief in calling all but one family member, but it hit me like a ton of bricks.
We learn about the stages of grief and process them. As adults, we’re quick to remind those grieving of those stages as they cope with their trauma and their loss. We rarely, as busy adults, take the time to care for ourselves through those moments, acknowledge where we’re at in our grief (if we even acknowledge that we’re still coping at all). If we do acknowledge that grief, we rarely allow ourselves the space and time to just cry and feel the raw emotions of it. That space to be open and vulnerable is so incredibly difficult to find.
In this wave of grief, I was blindsided. I hadn’t felt that level of grief in months. A day prior I felt like I was in a constructive place, tackling my to-do list and feeling productive. I was shooting the breeze with my friends. Then, like a tidal wave, it just washed over me.
It took a minute, and lengthy conversations with two of my best friends. One reminded me that music is a wonderful escape to breathe, and that it’s okay to step away and do that. The other reminded me that I’m very hard on myself, and I need to extend grace. That one hit me; she was right.
So I gave myself a night or two. I took a long walk listening to a podcast, cooked one of my favorite dinners, abandoned my to-do list, curled up in pajamas to watch an old movie with tea, and I finally crashed. I slept deeply and soundly, and woke up feeling a little bit better. Did I still feel a bit of a “hangover” from the crying and the stress my body felt from my grief and anxiety? Absolutely, but that also meant that I felt. I cracked myself open to feel vulnerable and that was okay. The world kept spinning, my husband still loved me, my friends still supported me, and I still had an incredible family.
We have different normals. We cope with change on a small scale every single day. We face change in large scale ways a few times in our lives, and if we’re fortunate, very few. Tapping into that vulnerability, extending grace to ourselves, is what can save us. Healing takes time, and delicate care, and honest conversations with the people who care for you. It doesn’t need to change your optimism or who you are. Grace gives us the space to be our most authentic selves, vulnerability gives us the tools to do so, and positivity gives you the faith that good days are still coming.
