Love Lives in So Many Ways #259

Every story has implicit messages that tell what the author’s understanding of the world is but what they write may not be what someone else understands from it just as what one person says may not be what is heard by another. We ourselves apply our own view of life in our narratives in a way that holds meaning for us but for others the context may not be as clearly defined nor as easily recognized as we hope it will be. Feeling alone in a room full of people or facing our dragons without the comfort of the sidekicks that are depicted in grand accounts makes our trails seem dark and debris filled even when there are spots that the sunshine reaches. We are, after all, the only ones who can actually go through our encounters with our so very heavell lives and there are times when our hearts really hurt along the way. If this week, or any one of them for that matter, doesn’t find the term thankful as a heading for you to write some words under, that’s all right because it doesn’t mean you don’t or won’t. It’s just that you aren’t feeling that way at this time and that is understandable in your kind of life. The value of being grateful doesn’t always breathe within us especially when we feel stuck in the weeds and doubt our ability to defeat the fire-breathing dragons that reside in that place. In other words, it’s hard to be appreciative when we feel as if a thousand prickles are piercing us and preventing us from moving the plot. What, then, are some of the things that we can do in order to be supportive and helpful to others when our journeys are different? What do we ourselves want in our moments where there’s nothing that feels good about our grief? I tend to be wordy, a shocking insight into who I am, but that doesn’t really inspire belief in someone even if it is my intent to do so. I am also a problem solver or fixer type which is always easy to do as an observer of another’s darkness even when we do have knowledge to impart. After Ryan died, if someone had attempted to be long-winded or to advise me during that year or so after my loss, my eyes would shoot daggers at that individual with the desire to destroy him or her. That same reaction happened if anyone ignored my suffering as well. Yeah, I was in that much pain and the term angry was a polite representation of the war that was occurring on the inside of me. My “flipping out” was illuminating what was there even though my implicit message wasn’t necessarily being read that way. Change is very difficult, and I am now learning to look at how I help and support others as well as myself. It’s a work of art in process and yes, I have relapsed repeatedly because habits or ways of coping die long, messy deaths and no one is thankful for that rollercoaster ride while on it. Love, as well as beauty, lives in so many ways but the power or the magic of it often feels like it is missing from us even though it really isn’t. By our silently sitting with ourselves and others, we are able to communicate the strongest form of hope that we have to offer by accepting the place that we and others find ourselves on the inside whether we understand or not. Be kind with a single word, a hug, a texted emoji or a smile but also be loud because love lives in so many ways and not just in the flowers or in the moments where the sun shines brightly. That particular feeling can even be found in the comfort of a box of tissues that we need to wipe our tears that come from pain or our laughter that makes our stomachs hurt but we don’t read that as a sign of light either. Have the best day POSSIBLE for you as you get comfortable with your story and how love lives in so many ways within you. Love Always, Heavell