Yesterday I felt like crap.
Nothing particularly dramatic. My stomach wasn’t happy, my body was clearly fighting something, and I spent a good portion of the day wondering whether whatever had decided to take up residence inside me was planning on staying. Today I woke up feeling better. Not perfect. Just better.
There is something wonderful about feeling normal again after spending even a short amount of time feeling like crap. Relief. The funny thing is, I don’t think we appreciate feeling okay nearly as much as we should until we don’t.
It got me thinking about how relief usually works. We notice it because something that was uncomfortable, painful, frightening or exhausting has finally loosened its grip. Sometimes you don’t even realize how tightly you’ve been holding yourself until you finally let go.
I’ve noticed something else lately. I’m handling things differently.
Things still bother me. I still overthink. I still have moments when something catches me completely off guard. I still get frustrated, sad, anxious, angry and occasionally become convinced that a minor inconvenience is a personal attack from the universe. But I recover differently.
Things that might have consumed an entire day sometimes consume an hour. Things that once needed an immediate answer can occasionally wait. I don’t feel quite the same need to fix everything the second it appears.
That’s new for me.
Relief has been a complicated word this year. After Mel died, relief was mixed into emotions I didn’t know what to do with. I was relieved that she wasn’t suffering anymore, and then I felt guilty for feeling relieved. It seemed like grief was supposed to have rules, and relief wasn’t one of the emotions I thought I was allowed to have.
I’ve learned a lot about Acceptance since then, including the fact that emotions don’t seem particularly interested in following rules.
The relief I feel today is different. I’m not relieved that something is over. I’m relieved because I’m beginning to believe it more when I tell myself that I’m going to be okay.
I’m also finding myself again. Or maybe that’s not quite right. When I wrote about Identity, I was asking a lot of questions about who I was outside of the roles that had defined me for so long. I’m not sure the person I’m finding now was ever completely gone. I think parts of me just got buried underneath responsibility, routine, marriage, parenting, work, caregiving and life.
Some of those parts are starting to come back, and I’m finding some new ones along the way. I’m not becoming someone completely different. I’m becoming more comfortable with the person who’s already here.
I’m also building a relationship with someone who gives me room to be exactly where I am. I don’t have to pretend the past didn’t happen, and I don’t have to have every detail of the future mapped out. We’re learning each other, growing together and enjoying where we are while we do it.
There is relief in that too. Not because someone else is responsible for making me okay, but because I don’t feel like I have to become someone else in order to be loved.
Maybe some of the biggest changes in my life aren’t going to announce themselves. Nobody is going to hand me a certificate saying, Congratulations, Jason. You handled that significantly better than you would have six months ago.
I’m probably just going to notice afterward and think, Huh. That didn’t knock me down quite as hard.
And maybe that’s enough.
Yesterday my body felt like crap. Today it feels better, and I noticed that immediately. The other kind of relief has taken longer to recognize.
I’m handling things better. I’m finding pieces of myself again. I’m laughing more. I’m making plans and allowing some of those plans to change. I’m loving people and letting people love me. I’m having days that are simply good without needing to explain why.
There are still difficult days ahead. I know that. Feeling better today doesn’t guarantee I won’t feel like crap again tomorrow, physically or emotionally. But I don’t think relief requires believing that nothing difficult will ever happen again.
Maybe the greatest relief is finally believing that when it does, I’ll be okay.
Oh, and why do children love chickens?
B’CAUSE!