I need to let you in on a secret. The last ten months have been personally challenging for me. Physically, emotionally, mentally.
In October of last year, I lost my bestie and her 19-month old daughter in a very tragic accident. She was like a second mother to my children and rescued our family when I couldn’t keep it all together back in 2016. She was, in so many ways, my lifeline. I don't know if I could have survived 2016 and 2017 without her.
I’ve suffered hard relationship challenges and major growing pains this last year. All the while, I went through a bit of a spiritual crisis (shocking, I know!)
In December, I watched helplessly as my daughter completely broke and displaced her upper arm bone. I didn’t sleep for weeks. I'd crawl into bed each night and my body would tremble from the immense amount of trauma I felt.
My heart has been filled with so much grief and pain from the last year. After the arm emergency I decided to take a month off -- from everything. I just let all my to-do's and goals fall to the side. I knew they'd still be there for me when I was ready. But, I also knew that to push through a moment of grief without honoring it, was a big mistake.
After all, I've been here before. Many times. I've written about them candidly here on the blog. Like most of you, I know that life is filled with valleys and hills, highs and lows. And I was recognizing that I was in a temporary moment of struggle, I knew the best way through it was to sit with it. To be with it. To honor it.
So, in December, I allowed myself the grace to simply do the bare minimum. Basically, I told myself as long as my family and I are fed and alive I’m winning. I celebrated the little victories everyday.
Instead of my usual hour long gym sessions, I celebrated slow 10-minute walks around the neighborhood pond.
Instead of getting 8+ hours of sleep (which is impossible when you have sick and hurting children), I celebrated resting on the couch for 20 minutes in between carpools and pickups and appointments.
Instead of homemade, delicious meals, I celebrated take-out, pizza delivery, and a few meals brought over by friends.
I drank way too much coffee. I cried more tears than I thought were possible. I let the hot water run cold in the shower more times than I could count. And, there were moments when I wondered if the pain would ever ease up.
I'm sharing this because most people who've worked with me or know me have seen my unending joy for life. I'm one of those pillars of strength who can smile through the impossible. I don't like to let others see me struggle or cry. And, because of the immense amount of healing and personal development I've done on myself, people tend to place me in the category of "super-human".
But, I am simply human - a perfectly, imperfect person who still experiences heart break, pain, and struggle. We all are experiencing this wild ride of human existence as students on this weird little "Earth School" planet.
I was once told that there is so much learning we can teach others by being vulnerable. In the divination cloth, the Mountain stone shows up for others when they need to be more visible because a Mountain cannot hide who it is. The Mountain teaches us that even when we want to slow down and go into hiding, we still need to be seen and heard. We still need to tell our story, ask for help, and stay expansive, open, and vulnerable.
I'm not entirely sure why I was called to write this post today. But, I think it has to do with the fact that many of my clients will come to me for help when they find themselves in a moment of pause or contraction or crisis. They don't often come when times are good and easy going. Perhaps you're one of those people who is celebrating your moment of pause in your life today.
The thing is, when we find ourselves in these moments of contraction we get really uncomfortable. We get impatient. We feel stuck. We feel alone. We want to move past the contractive parts of our life as quickly as possible and "get to the fun stuff".
I'm here to tell you that our lives mimic the seasons in nature. Not every moment will be expansive and full of growth. Not every moment will be lush and joyful and sunny. We will have seasons of death and dying, letting go and surrendering. We will have moments of hibernation, resting, and darkness. We will have moments where we feel like "nothing is happening" and we will have moments of pain and heartbreak.
But if there's one thing I'm sure of it's this: behind every contraction there is always an expansion.
I love you all. Thank you for being here!
-Kelsey
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