Sometimes I feel like a child. I'm silly, giggly, immature at times, I whine like a child, pout like a child, and get stupid excited over little things like ice-cream, like a child. Yet, most of the time I take life too seriously. I overthink things, I focus too much on where I want to be instead of where I am, I get really emotional over goodbyes and changes and cards and deaths, I let fear and "practicality" limit me, and I worry too much. I think most of us do. But why? We think children are naive, innocent, and immature, but are they? And if they are, isn't that really how we're all supposed to be? Kids don't take anything too seriously, they don't let fear control their decisions or hold them back from doing something they want to do, and they don't hold onto the past or fear the future. Kids just see what is. They enjoy where they are at any given moment, they don't put on a show for other people, they allow themselves to feel whatever they are feeling at that moment (be it hunger, frustration, saddness, tiredness, or excitement) and they express it. They go after whatever they want, they eat as much as they want, they cry when they want, they smile when they want, they always want to try new things, and all they ever really want is to have fun. It's simple, and it's the way life is supposed to be lived.
Kids don't try to be other people. They don't look in the mirror and think, "Man, my thighs are rubbing each other below my diaper." They don't care about makeup, fashion, losing weight, making a lot of money, or being more successful than so-and-so. They don't compare themselves to other people, they don't rush through life constantly trying to make it to their next "destination," and they don't allow life's changes or unexpected setbacks to scar and limit them. Kids take life as it comes, and that's a lesson we could all stand to learn from them.
I find myself worrying about my niece from time to time, wondering how her parents' recent split will effect her in the future. I worry about her being tossed back and forth between two homes and what she thinks of it, if anything. I wonder if it will effect her view on love and relatonships in the future. I worry that she will think it was in some way her fault, or that she did something wrong, but I don't have to. Everytime I look at her she reminds me to stop worrying about everything so much, to smile, to enjoy the moment, and to be happy. She reminds me, when she waves at her favorite baby cousin pulling out of the driveway to fly back home and then immediately returns to excitedly running around the yard, that life is meant to be lived in the moment. We can't see what life has in store tomorrow or in another year, who will leave us or break our heart, who will die, or what unwanted changes will come down the pipe. All we can do is fully feel and be present in each moment. We should enjoy where we are at any given moment fully, because we never know how long anything will be as it is now. So many times we aren't present because we are thinking of other things, taking whatever we are doing or who we are with for granted, or worrying about something else instead of enjoying whatever we are doing at that moment. How many times have you started complaining about a vacation ending and having to go back home before it actually ended? I know I have, and I don't want to live like that anymore. I don't want to look back and say, "Man, if I would've known that would've been my last summer with so-and-so or my last vacation in that beach house, I wouldn't have spent it crying about that guy who broke up with me or working 24-7 or worrying about what I was going to do at the end of the summer." That is time wasted and time is a precious gift that will eventually run out. Too often, we take time for granted.
From time to time I think about my niece's father and how close I always was with him. I miss him. I hate that he isn't in my life much anymore and I hate how much has changed. However, Alexis (his daughter and my niece) makes me think, why do I hate it? It's different, yes, but that doesn't mean things can't be even better than they once were. And even if they never get better, would I change anything I did? Would I take back all the days I spent with my brother-in-law, all the hugs, all the jokes, all the phonecalls, all the good times? No. I wouldn't change those for the world. Similarly, even if I would have known ahead of time the way my ex-boyfriend would unexpectedly leave me and break my heart, would I never have dated him to begin with? No. I would have. I enjoyed my time with every guy I have dated so far. I enjoyed my 17 years with my mother more than anything. If I would've known ahead of time that I would lose her to cancer, would I have not gotten so close? Would I have changed anything? No. What we had was perfect while we had it. And that's exactly why we need to be more like children. We never know how long we're going to have anyone or anything. We think we're grown up and more mature than kids, and that we known how rough and tough life can be, but does that make us make "smarter" decisions, or just "safer" ones? We think we're being smart, safe, and protecting ourselves when we choose not to go skydiving or rockclimbing, not to give up our great-paying job for one that really makes us happy, and not to put ourselves our there and fall in love again, but is that smart? No, it's just "safer." It's what we've learned to do as a result of past failures, losses, dissappointments, and heartaches. But just like children, we should get right back in the game, every single time, instead of giving up, closing ourselves off, and living as a victim of our own pasts. Like children, we need to let go of the past, not worry about the future, and simply live in the moment. Easier said than done? Certainly. But I've come to realize, over the past 10 years, that it really is the only way to live fully.
I was crying when I waved goodbye to my sister and nephew as they left for the airport and walked back up the driveway with Alexis. I was amazed that my niece, who had followed "Baby Jake" around every minute of every day that he had been here, was not. I was so proud of her for having enjoyed every moment she did with her aunt and cousin, and now choosing to let them go and enjoy her time with me and my boyfriend. Just a few days ago, she flew to Florida with her father. I am so proud of her for that. At three years old, she left her mommy for a whole week. When I was 15 I was petrified to leave my mom and cried the first hour of the carride to Consecon, Canada, with my best friend and her family. As far as I know, Alexis hasn't cried yet. She's making friends with the kids at the pool, having fun with her father and his side of the family, and is fully enjoying every moment she has on her vacation - not wasting it thinking of Buffalo, missing everyone here, and wallowing that her trip will end before it even has. She is simply being fully present and enjoying the only gift she has for sure at any given moment - THE PRESENT. <3
Alexis, thank you for reminding Aunt Kimmi to stop looking back, feeling sad over all that was and no longer is. Thank you for reminding me to enjoy what I have right now, because that's the only thing that matters. Thank you for reminding me how important it is to adapt, to let go of the past, and to not worry about the future. Thank you for making me smile all the time, and for reminding me how simple life really is. (Adults just like to complicate everything.) Thank you for reminding me not to take life too seriously, and that the most important thing in this world is found, and felt, in the little moments. The biggest gifts always come in the smallest packages, and you, my precious niece, are certainly a little package. :-) Thank you for being so carefree, so happy, and so smiley all the time, no matter what happens. In that way, and in so many others, you remind me of your Grandma Carolyn. Thank you for reminding me that no matter how life changes, we'll always have the one thing that matters most and the one thing that can never die - LOVE.
Jacob, thank you for reminding Aunt Kimmi how to be fearless. When I watch you climb from the floor onto the toilet seat, up the back of the toilet, and then attempt to get up onto the shelf in the bathroom without even a flinch or ever looking down, you remind me that we should all be so ambitious when it comes to getting what we want. You don't let fear control your decisions and neither should we. When I watch you attempt to "Kramer" your way down a flight of stairs, you remind me to step out in faith more in my life, before I see the next step. The staircare appears after we take a step, not before. Whoever said, "Look before you leap" was wrong. We aren't supposed to look, we aren't supposed to be "safe," we aren't supposed to live in our comfort zones, and we aren't supposed to limit ourselves with fear. You are 100% fearless, and you inspire me to live my life the same way whenever I see you. You amaze me.
You two are the best things that have happened to me in a long time and you will never know how much I love you. I fully understood, when you each came into my life, that I would be responsible for teaching you so many things. What I didn't know, was how much you would both teach me so early on. You remind me that we are all teachers and we are all students, just like in the yoga studio. We learn from each other and every experience in our lives every day, and it is often the people we least expect to teach us that wind up teaching us the most. <3
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Thank You, Mom
Today is Mother's Day and it is the best one I have had since my mother died. Last year was the first year I felt happy on this day and not quite so sad. I had recently changed my attitude on everything in life and decided to celebrate my mother's life for the first time on Mother's Day instead of crying over her death. I visited her gravesite feeling lighter and happier than usual, drove to work singing my favorite songs with my sunroof open and sunshine streaming into my car, and then pranced into work, truly excited to make so many mothers' Mother's Day's special. I was happy to be surrounded by mothers and families with their moms instead of sad. It was the best and happiest I had ever felt on Mother's Day...until this year.
Just last week I was pleasantly surprised to find out my sister and nephew would be flying in from Georgia for the weekend. I don't remember the last time we were all together on Mother's Day, but it definitely hasn't been since both of my sisters became mothers themselves. I was very excited upon hearing the news and knew that this would be one of the nicest and happiest Mother's Days yet, but I honestly had no idea it would be this nice. Family was a huge part of why today has been so special, as was the nice weather and the presence of the most loving boyfriend I have had yet, but the biggest thing that made me happy today was actually spending time with my mom. Over the past year, particularly as a result of my journey deeper into the world of yoga and teaching yoga, I have learned a great deal about letting go, trusting, believing in something before it can be seen, and meditation, the last of which is what made this Mother's Day so sincerely special.
This morning, after running to the store to grab a few last minute things for my sisters and grandmother, I sat down on the frontporch with nothing besides my self and a cup of coffee. I looked at the hopscotch game drawn with chalk for Alexis and Jacob, and memories of my own childhood came flying back. As I looked around the porch, driveway, and yard, snapshots of precious moments with my mom flashed through my mind. I saw her watching us ride our bikes around the driveway, waiting for us to get off the school bus, asking us about our day over after-school snacks, climbing the tree, playing lacrosse with me, packing up our trailer for Cape Cod each summer, and loading us into the astrovan to take us to school, games, church, grocery shopping, and over to our friends' houses. I looked at the flowers and plants she planted, most of which are still here, almost nine years later. I looked up at the bright blue sky and felt the sun dance over my skin. My smile grew as I allowed countless happy memories sink into my soul with the sun. I then closed my eyes and shifted my focus inward. I turned my mind off, and by not actively thinking of my mother and her memory, I allowed her to actually enter my mind. I felt her, I saw her, I listened to her talk to me, and she hugged me in the middle of an island of blue hydrangeas (her favorite flower). I turned my mind off and tuned my mom in. For the first time since she died, I truly felt like I was spending time with her. I felt peaceful, joyful, and loved. I felt as though I had never lost her. I was reunited with her in my mind, and in my heart, and I realized that it could've always been this easy. And at the end of our conversation, I heard her say to me: "I am always right here. I am always in you, and with you - always." And I kept hearing the words "Thank you." I was left with no words to say to her besides "thank you." "Thank you for wiping every tear, enhancing every smile, guiding every step, listening to every complaint and fear, tending to every bruise, encouraging every idea, telling me every Maryanne & Suzie story, and singing me every bedtime song. Thank you for showing me the closest thing to God's love that I have ever found on this Earth. Thank you for loving me unconditionally. Thank you for my life. Thank you for everything. Thank you. And then I heard her say, "Thank you." "Thank you for making me the happiest mother in the whole world. Thank you for making my life complete. Thank you for all the love, laughter, and precious memories. Thank you for giving my life meaning, the most meaning it could ever have. Thank you for showing me what is most important in life. Thank you for making my life complete. Thank you, and your sisters, for being the reason I died happy." Tears welled up in my eyes as I saw her look me in the eyes and felt her love pour into me. I felt loved, held, cared for, and all warm and fuzzy inside, the kind of warm and fuzzy that only a mother can provide. And as I sat there on my front porch, with my legs crossed and eyes closed in front of the house I grew up in, I realized how right Bikram Choudhury (the founder of Bikram Yoga) really was when he said, "The longest distance any of us ever has to travel to reach Self-Realization is six inches. Six inches lies between mind and heart, between ego and Spirit, between fear and love. Six inches is all that separates us from God." God is in me and in all of us. Spirit is in my mom and me and in all of us, and it connects all of us. There is no death - there is only life. There is only Spirit and Spirit does not die. During my yoga training I studied scripture that says we are all Spiritual beings having a human experience here on Earth. If that's true, which I believe it is, then why should I grieve over the loss of my mother's human body? I only miss it because it was all I knew. But when I close my eye, clear my mind, and enter into Stillness, I connect with Spirit - both mine and hers. I connect with all that is, all that was, and all that will ever be. I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner. All that has ever separated myself from my mom over the past eight years has been my own mind. Six inches lies between my mind and my heart. Six inches is the furthest distance I will ever have to travel. Today, I walked the path from my mind to my heart and I cannot tell you how glad I am. My heart is happy and for the first time since her death, I felt like I truly "spent time" with my mom. This Mother's Day, I realized not only that my mom is still here, but that she never really left.
As a sidenote, this year was also very special because it was the first one I spent with my boyfriend Shawn. Shawn lost his mom when he was two years old, and as a result, we share a very special bond. I have always been very in touch with my mother's death, and I love talking to Shawn about his mom too. He doesn't have much to say, or many memories, since he was so little when she died, but he has told me that he has a few pictures. I have asked about the pictures a few times but never saw any...until today. Today, Shawn spent a couple of precious hours with me before he had to go into work. He visited my mother's grave with me, sat next to the creek near my house where my mom used to take my sisters and I to play, and then sat on my backporch and shared an album of family pictures with me. As I flipped through one photo after another of his beautiful mother, I realized that despite how different our lives have been and despite the differences between our mothers and the times at which we lost them, there really isn't any difference at all. A mother's love is always a mothers love, and no matter what, it is all-encompassing. He may not have had his mother in his life nearly as long as I did, but he still had all of her love for the two years that he did. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I saw pictures of such a happy baby and such a happy mother. My heart has ached for Shawn ever since I met him, for all the years he didn't have with her, all the missing "I love you's," bedtime stories, lullabies, hugs and kisses, smiles, encouragement, guidance, and unending love. But today, I realized that he had it all too, he just had it for a shorter amount of time than I did. And in that moment, not only did I feel happiness for him that he had so much motherly love surrounding him in his formative first two years, I realized yet again how blessed I was to have my mother for 17. I used to think 17 years was nothing compared to what I should've had her here for, but I always knew how blessed I was to have her for the 17 that I did. Now, thanks to Shawn, I realize just how long 17 years really was. I am grateful for the two years Shawn felt so much love from his mother, and I am grateful for the 17 I had. We are very blessed for all we had and all we still have. Our mothers are not gone, not unless we think they are. They are in us, they are with us, and their love has formed us. Their love brough us together, and now we share such a special and strong love, thanks to them. As we sat there, cuddling with that precious book of photos on my backporch, I felt such strong emotion for Shawn, and so much gratitude for both his mother and mine. What a special Mother's Day it had already been.
So, here's to you Mom, and here's to you Mrs. Muraco. Here's to all the moms that have gone before, to all those still here, and to all those yet-to-be-moms. Thank you for being our first and strongest examples of true love. Thank you for being the closest thing to God's love that we can find here on Earth. Thank you for being God to us, and helping us to see the God in us. We could never express our gratitude in a way that would accurately convey it, but we'll keep trying anyways. Today, and every day, we love you. <3 Happy Mother's Day! <3
Just last week I was pleasantly surprised to find out my sister and nephew would be flying in from Georgia for the weekend. I don't remember the last time we were all together on Mother's Day, but it definitely hasn't been since both of my sisters became mothers themselves. I was very excited upon hearing the news and knew that this would be one of the nicest and happiest Mother's Days yet, but I honestly had no idea it would be this nice. Family was a huge part of why today has been so special, as was the nice weather and the presence of the most loving boyfriend I have had yet, but the biggest thing that made me happy today was actually spending time with my mom. Over the past year, particularly as a result of my journey deeper into the world of yoga and teaching yoga, I have learned a great deal about letting go, trusting, believing in something before it can be seen, and meditation, the last of which is what made this Mother's Day so sincerely special.
This morning, after running to the store to grab a few last minute things for my sisters and grandmother, I sat down on the frontporch with nothing besides my self and a cup of coffee. I looked at the hopscotch game drawn with chalk for Alexis and Jacob, and memories of my own childhood came flying back. As I looked around the porch, driveway, and yard, snapshots of precious moments with my mom flashed through my mind. I saw her watching us ride our bikes around the driveway, waiting for us to get off the school bus, asking us about our day over after-school snacks, climbing the tree, playing lacrosse with me, packing up our trailer for Cape Cod each summer, and loading us into the astrovan to take us to school, games, church, grocery shopping, and over to our friends' houses. I looked at the flowers and plants she planted, most of which are still here, almost nine years later. I looked up at the bright blue sky and felt the sun dance over my skin. My smile grew as I allowed countless happy memories sink into my soul with the sun. I then closed my eyes and shifted my focus inward. I turned my mind off, and by not actively thinking of my mother and her memory, I allowed her to actually enter my mind. I felt her, I saw her, I listened to her talk to me, and she hugged me in the middle of an island of blue hydrangeas (her favorite flower). I turned my mind off and tuned my mom in. For the first time since she died, I truly felt like I was spending time with her. I felt peaceful, joyful, and loved. I felt as though I had never lost her. I was reunited with her in my mind, and in my heart, and I realized that it could've always been this easy. And at the end of our conversation, I heard her say to me: "I am always right here. I am always in you, and with you - always." And I kept hearing the words "Thank you." I was left with no words to say to her besides "thank you." "Thank you for wiping every tear, enhancing every smile, guiding every step, listening to every complaint and fear, tending to every bruise, encouraging every idea, telling me every Maryanne & Suzie story, and singing me every bedtime song. Thank you for showing me the closest thing to God's love that I have ever found on this Earth. Thank you for loving me unconditionally. Thank you for my life. Thank you for everything. Thank you. And then I heard her say, "Thank you." "Thank you for making me the happiest mother in the whole world. Thank you for making my life complete. Thank you for all the love, laughter, and precious memories. Thank you for giving my life meaning, the most meaning it could ever have. Thank you for showing me what is most important in life. Thank you for making my life complete. Thank you, and your sisters, for being the reason I died happy." Tears welled up in my eyes as I saw her look me in the eyes and felt her love pour into me. I felt loved, held, cared for, and all warm and fuzzy inside, the kind of warm and fuzzy that only a mother can provide. And as I sat there on my front porch, with my legs crossed and eyes closed in front of the house I grew up in, I realized how right Bikram Choudhury (the founder of Bikram Yoga) really was when he said, "The longest distance any of us ever has to travel to reach Self-Realization is six inches. Six inches lies between mind and heart, between ego and Spirit, between fear and love. Six inches is all that separates us from God." God is in me and in all of us. Spirit is in my mom and me and in all of us, and it connects all of us. There is no death - there is only life. There is only Spirit and Spirit does not die. During my yoga training I studied scripture that says we are all Spiritual beings having a human experience here on Earth. If that's true, which I believe it is, then why should I grieve over the loss of my mother's human body? I only miss it because it was all I knew. But when I close my eye, clear my mind, and enter into Stillness, I connect with Spirit - both mine and hers. I connect with all that is, all that was, and all that will ever be. I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner. All that has ever separated myself from my mom over the past eight years has been my own mind. Six inches lies between my mind and my heart. Six inches is the furthest distance I will ever have to travel. Today, I walked the path from my mind to my heart and I cannot tell you how glad I am. My heart is happy and for the first time since her death, I felt like I truly "spent time" with my mom. This Mother's Day, I realized not only that my mom is still here, but that she never really left.
As a sidenote, this year was also very special because it was the first one I spent with my boyfriend Shawn. Shawn lost his mom when he was two years old, and as a result, we share a very special bond. I have always been very in touch with my mother's death, and I love talking to Shawn about his mom too. He doesn't have much to say, or many memories, since he was so little when she died, but he has told me that he has a few pictures. I have asked about the pictures a few times but never saw any...until today. Today, Shawn spent a couple of precious hours with me before he had to go into work. He visited my mother's grave with me, sat next to the creek near my house where my mom used to take my sisters and I to play, and then sat on my backporch and shared an album of family pictures with me. As I flipped through one photo after another of his beautiful mother, I realized that despite how different our lives have been and despite the differences between our mothers and the times at which we lost them, there really isn't any difference at all. A mother's love is always a mothers love, and no matter what, it is all-encompassing. He may not have had his mother in his life nearly as long as I did, but he still had all of her love for the two years that he did. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I saw pictures of such a happy baby and such a happy mother. My heart has ached for Shawn ever since I met him, for all the years he didn't have with her, all the missing "I love you's," bedtime stories, lullabies, hugs and kisses, smiles, encouragement, guidance, and unending love. But today, I realized that he had it all too, he just had it for a shorter amount of time than I did. And in that moment, not only did I feel happiness for him that he had so much motherly love surrounding him in his formative first two years, I realized yet again how blessed I was to have my mother for 17. I used to think 17 years was nothing compared to what I should've had her here for, but I always knew how blessed I was to have her for the 17 that I did. Now, thanks to Shawn, I realize just how long 17 years really was. I am grateful for the two years Shawn felt so much love from his mother, and I am grateful for the 17 I had. We are very blessed for all we had and all we still have. Our mothers are not gone, not unless we think they are. They are in us, they are with us, and their love has formed us. Their love brough us together, and now we share such a special and strong love, thanks to them. As we sat there, cuddling with that precious book of photos on my backporch, I felt such strong emotion for Shawn, and so much gratitude for both his mother and mine. What a special Mother's Day it had already been.
So, here's to you Mom, and here's to you Mrs. Muraco. Here's to all the moms that have gone before, to all those still here, and to all those yet-to-be-moms. Thank you for being our first and strongest examples of true love. Thank you for being the closest thing to God's love that we can find here on Earth. Thank you for being God to us, and helping us to see the God in us. We could never express our gratitude in a way that would accurately convey it, but we'll keep trying anyways. Today, and every day, we love you. <3 Happy Mother's Day! <3
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
You Don't Get The Rainbow Without The Storm
There are so many things that can happen to us in this life, some great and some not-so-great, and at some point we all come to the realization that we can't control any of it. You can't control what happens to you, only how you react to it. Perhaps you will lose your job tomorrow, get into a car accident, find out a loved one is sick, suffer a financial setback, or simply have a "bad" day. Did you ever think, though, that perhaps it happened for a very good reason? Looking back, aren't there times in your life when something bad happened and at the time you simply couldn't possibly see anything good coming from it, any light at the end of the tunnel, or any truth in empathetic words such as "Everything happens for a reason"? I know I've had times like that, many of them. And do you want to know what? I have learned something invaluable from all of them, become a stronger and better person for all of them, and gotten to a sunnier, happier place in the end.
So why do we have such a hard time trusting, at that time that something "bad" is happening to us, that it's leading us to something better? Why can't we trust in the lesson, in the process, in our process. Everything in this life truly does happen for a reason. Perhaps you're running late to a meeting and because of being late, you avoid what would've been a terrible car accident. Maybe someone breaks up with you and breaks your heart, and a few months later you meet the person you are truly meant to be with, someone who makes you so much happier. Or maybe, like best-selling author Tama Kieves, you decide to opt out of an important meeting with some editors one day because your inner voice is nagging you to take a walk in the park. (Random, right?) And all because you chose to listen to it, you meet and strike up a conversation with a woman in the park who just happens to be a big-time editor at the magazine you've been dying to write for and she wants to meet with you soon to discuss future job possibilities! The best things in life often come after some of the worst, kind of like the rainbow that follows a rainstorm. Trust. Trust that no matter what you're going through or what terrible thing just happened, that it happened for a very good reason. Trust that it will bring the best of you to the surface and that it will ultimately lead you to a better place. You can't see it now and you won't be able to connect the dots until later, but trust that at some point in the future, they will connect. In a few weeks or maybe even in a few years, you will be able to look back and say, "Wow, if I never would've lost my job unexpectedly, I never would've gotten this one!" Or, "If I never would've lost my mom, I never would've started a support group to help grieving young adults and I never would've realized how good I am at listening to people talk about their grief and helping them work through it." I can't tell you when the storm will pass or where you will find yourself when it does, but I can tell you that the best thing to do is trust that everything is happening exactly as it's supposed to and that your life and your process is unfolding exactly how it is meant to. Expect the best and trust.
I know how hard it is to get through tough things like a cancer diagnosis, job loss, personal failure, and a breakup, but remember that what doesn't kill you will only make you stronger. Feel what you're feeling and honor those feelings, but don't allow them to take over. As my mom always said, "When things go bad, don't go with them." Trust me, I know how hard it is to do that, but trust in yourself and believe that you can hang in there, be positive, and wait patiently for the rainbow. Why? Because you can.
P.S. Don't forget to not stare at the door that has closed for too long, because if you do, you might miss the new one that is opening....
So why do we have such a hard time trusting, at that time that something "bad" is happening to us, that it's leading us to something better? Why can't we trust in the lesson, in the process, in our process. Everything in this life truly does happen for a reason. Perhaps you're running late to a meeting and because of being late, you avoid what would've been a terrible car accident. Maybe someone breaks up with you and breaks your heart, and a few months later you meet the person you are truly meant to be with, someone who makes you so much happier. Or maybe, like best-selling author Tama Kieves, you decide to opt out of an important meeting with some editors one day because your inner voice is nagging you to take a walk in the park. (Random, right?) And all because you chose to listen to it, you meet and strike up a conversation with a woman in the park who just happens to be a big-time editor at the magazine you've been dying to write for and she wants to meet with you soon to discuss future job possibilities! The best things in life often come after some of the worst, kind of like the rainbow that follows a rainstorm. Trust. Trust that no matter what you're going through or what terrible thing just happened, that it happened for a very good reason. Trust that it will bring the best of you to the surface and that it will ultimately lead you to a better place. You can't see it now and you won't be able to connect the dots until later, but trust that at some point in the future, they will connect. In a few weeks or maybe even in a few years, you will be able to look back and say, "Wow, if I never would've lost my job unexpectedly, I never would've gotten this one!" Or, "If I never would've lost my mom, I never would've started a support group to help grieving young adults and I never would've realized how good I am at listening to people talk about their grief and helping them work through it." I can't tell you when the storm will pass or where you will find yourself when it does, but I can tell you that the best thing to do is trust that everything is happening exactly as it's supposed to and that your life and your process is unfolding exactly how it is meant to. Expect the best and trust.
I know how hard it is to get through tough things like a cancer diagnosis, job loss, personal failure, and a breakup, but remember that what doesn't kill you will only make you stronger. Feel what you're feeling and honor those feelings, but don't allow them to take over. As my mom always said, "When things go bad, don't go with them." Trust me, I know how hard it is to do that, but trust in yourself and believe that you can hang in there, be positive, and wait patiently for the rainbow. Why? Because you can.
P.S. Don't forget to not stare at the door that has closed for too long, because if you do, you might miss the new one that is opening....
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