2020. The Lost Year. The headline on the cover of The NY Times Magazine jumped out at me! I thought yes, that’s exactly, succinctly it. Gone, vanished. Then, I reconsidered. Maybe it wasn’t so much about the year we lost, because, after all, it is in the fabric of us now, but about finding our way through the losses. As with every time I have been in unfamiliar territory, surrounded by uncertainty and pain, it is there that I have unearthed deeper layers of myself.
We’ve certainly experienced more than our share of the destruction in this pandemic year, crashing through unwanted waves of grief, growth, and reluctant acceptance or raging anger. Little pieces of us have been chipped away as our souls were forced to adapt to something so unexpected and unwelcome that we had to catch up just to navigate coping, even then holding on by a thread. Oftentimes, we could only subsist on the emotional fringes of whatever we were feeling at the time, as the turbulence bounced us about, day in and day out, and we did our best to show up, again and again.
Too many to count, the casualties have been numerous, the emotional toll overwhelming, the aftermath a swirling, simmering angst filled pot of sorrow and void.
The sad truth is that we’re never going back. Some things will never be restored. Lives taken are gone forever. Broken hearts will remain scarred. Shattered dreams lie as the ashes, unrecoverable, eventually turning back into earth. Like letting go of a beloved childhood home, we will absorb every single misplaced longing that will never again be ours.
Yet, I keep coming back to the grace peeking behind the curtains of this great pause. The surrender I was compelled to lean into so I could come out the other side. Therein lies my gratitude. That there is another side. That through this all, there have also been beautiful, shining moments of truth, light, resilience and goodness. That the flames of human kindness have not entirely burned out. My career as a caregiver constantly nurtures my perspective. I had a client who suffered a stroke. Her life is never going to return to any semblance of the normal she once embraced with zest. She misses it and she will always miss it. She will forever face the day with only her memories and whatever she can manage from here. We, on the other hand, will go back to something recognizable, albeit altered. Eventually. And, yes, because of our collective experience, we are forever changed and maybe, more evolved or aware. So perhaps not all is lost. What if this past year has been our compass, with a huge learning curve as we learned to read it? What if this was all leading us toward Higher Ground? New perspective, more inclusive views, a broader appreciation of who we are as humans, an opportunity to offer a more loving version of ourselves. I cannot imagine that there was no purpose in this global upheaval that rocked us to our core and created such profoundly meaningful shifts.
As we give 2020 the big send off or the finger, and open our hearts to this new year, one filled simultaneously with trepidation and hope of new beginnings, I see bittersweet glimmers of transitions. Somehow, all the gaping holes of loss and letting go have given way to new found respect for what is. For that cherished circle of people that kept me afloat, no matter the physical distance. For a loving relationship, in its infancy that provided me with strength and stability. For the value of intimate gatherings that filled the empty spaces of my social connections. Like everyone else, I have ebbed and flowed through my own sense of loss, as familiar pieces of me slipped away and something else took their place, as I navigated through relentless dark days and overwhelming sorrow wondering how to identify the life I live now, instead of the one I handcrafted and carefully nurtured. I mourned then, and now, with the whole of me as I released those rituals that sustained and fed my soul with vibrancy. And with time, I allowed this to redefine what it means to live a life of quality, to honor every emotion, no matter how uncomfortable, to embrace the shadows as lovingly as the light.
Today I choose anew, for what’s next. Less judgement. More paying attention. Less fear. More trusting. Less anxiety. More breathing. Nothing will change what is. But we can change how we receive this. All of it.
Photo Cred; NY Times