Leaves. Trinidad. Photo, copyrighted, Leisa A. Hammett, from our forthcoming travel blog, DeeLeisaOus Travels.
Fear. Sadness. And, Grieving. As I came into consciousness this morning, anticipating the annoying ring of my cell phone's programmed 5 a.m. alarm, those three words came to me. Words to communicate how I am feeling with the news from my daughter' psychiatrist yesterday that she needed to go to her neurologist and have an EEG. The psychiatrist said he was definitely seeing seizure activity during my daughter's neurofeedback session.
The alarm rang, I stumbled through the ritual movements. Grabbing my robe. Weighing. Squeezing half a lemon into a large glass of just-poured, chilled, filtered water. As I began to awaken more, there is was. This little burst of feeling in my core. Deep within the center of my chest. Joy.
As I moved to gather my journal, taking time for a few yoga stretches first, I felt surprise. Surprise for how much these feelings were like those I had experienced so many times the last six years following my divorce. Again, following the break up of my first post-divorce breakup. Or, the two 24-hour periods I broke up with my now fiance or contemplated doing so. (I sometimes wonder--this is a loaded statement that could be taken so wrong--if leaving once somehow makes it easier to leave again.)
And here I am experiencing all these feelings. Again. No relationship with a significant other is being left. Yet the feelings are the same because the feelings come from the place of Grief. And while I am not leaving a relationship with an individual, I am leaving something. I am leaving a place. And, I'm entering a place of change. A place of homeostasis. A place that I thought was safe but that I have found out is not. Meaning, that I have learned that we are not free of potentially harmful seizures. We have arrived again on their shores. Grieving is about changing from something that you thought existed. Grieving is about leaving something, someone. Change.
And then I go back to that tiny burst of Joy in my heart and relive all the feelings that follow it. I recall familiar mantra that I said to myself in my half sleep: It Will All Be Okay. IGBOK. Because it will. As moved through the morning routines, I familiarized myself with what I know. That it always works out. That is the way Life is. It doesn't make pain and suffering go away. It doesn't mean a fairy waves a magic wand and make the circumstances go away. It means that Life moves on. And I will and am moving on AND THROUGH these feelings of Grief. Once again.
And that is Life. I cannot always control what happens. No one can. But I can--we can--control my our response. I learned this news about my daughter the same afternoon my first book came off the press. And like so much of Life there is Joy. And there is Pain. It is important to feel and experience the Pain. To walk on through it. And then to Remember and to Connect to the Joy that is there waiting at the end of the Pain and even amid the Pain.
My posts are written in advance and "stockpiled." I write them in present tense though by the time they post, the events may have taken place weeks, days, months ago. This post is also a follow-up of another. If you are visiting The Journey with Grace for the first time because of our Tuesday Tennessean Bellevue supplement or today's Davidson A.M. supplement--Welcome! I hope you'll return. I post about Autism, Art and All the Rest of Life on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Subscribe, above, for free, via email or RSS feed. FYI, I'm in the midst of tweaking my site here as I've come up on my one-year blog-a-versary.