*This is a vulnerability-laced post. Reader's discretion is advised*
Life’s playbook fails to mention how to carry on when the weight of sorrow bares down on our shoulders. We proclaim to the heavens “Self-care! Self-care!”, but how do we pay mind to the heartbreak that can take hold when the breath is knocked from our lungs by news we could never prepare for?
Where is the “sick leave” for when tears stream from our eyes without a stop in sight? Where is the panic button when the best “self-care” would be to halt the pressure of the responsibilities it takes to live an adult life?
Tragedy strikes at inopportune times.
It robs us of the air in our lungs. Stays busy constricting our throats, robbing us of every nook and cranny in our minds. Functioning all the sudden seems laborious. Time slows down but races toward the moments of heart-shattering truth we are forced to face.
How do I serve as a helpful therapist when I am struggling to breathe?
How do I pay mind to my loved one’s experiences when the sorrow I feel in the pit of my stomach threatens to encumber me at any moment?
How do I make room for the tears and the wails and the screams of unfairness that I exhaust myself trying to wrestle down every second of every hour of everyday until the tragedy delivers its final blows?
Where’s the room for all these things in a world that fails to supply panic buttons for grief and unplanned tragedy?
Saying goodbye to a very best friend is soul-shattering.
Today I hurt. Sorrowfully and deeply.
Today, I will start where I am.
I will use what I have.
I will do what I can.