On Grief and Gratitude

4 days and counting to the biggest day of this year.  I am full of grief and gratitude, all at the same time.  I had a full blown panic attack last week.  When I am overwhelmed, I freeze.  I have been frozen in despair for the last few weeks.  One day last week, I was very proud of myself for getting up and taking Eugene to the lake for a walk after my doctor's appt.  I was on my way with him to Starbucks for a caffeine boost for myself, since I am not sleeping, and a puppacino for him, because he is just awesome.  As I am driving, I have the worst thoughts and I am overcome with sadness and grief and every bad raw emotion I could have.  I started to wonder if this is the last week of my son's life.  I couldn't even fathom the thought and here it was consuming me. What if... I started to heave and cry the ugliest tears I have ever cried and I couldn't breathe.  I finally get myself somewhat together to get through the drive-thru with my mask on and tears in my eyes.  The sweet barista showed great care with me.  I started to be overwhelmed with sadness and fear again, so I pulled into a spot and looked for someone in my phone to call.  I knew I was going down a black hole.  I called my sister and she was at work.  My husband was in the middle of teaching a class.  And then I called my ex-husband.  Well, that was a mistake.  He wasn't helpful and was pretty condescending.  So then I somehow had the wherewithal to call the single best person to get me breathing and eventually laughing again and in the middle of it all he managed to get me to give myself a little bit of grace.  I was full of grief and then just like that, full of gratitude. 

I am surrounded by good people.  

My sister started a meal train to help us not have to think about just one more thing during the day while we help Ryan recover.  And now it is full.  And people are still being so so so kind and sending us gift cards to help.  Another neighbor friend dropped off a lasagna this afternoon to help nourish my family while we wait this week out.  My friends hug me and let me cry for a minute and then they hold my hands and tell me to feel the positive energy they are sending to me because I feel too weak to find it on my own.  My friends take me out for an evening of normalcy so I can forget for a few hours that I have been living in fear and grief.  I get to be surrounded by the goodness of people in the ocean's healing water and laugh for a little while and not feel like my whole world will crumble if there is a slip of a hand.  Everyone is on standby to offer me love and support while I love and support my son, in whatever way he will let me.  My husband silently falls in, trying to not say the wrong thing or do something insensitive--my therapist reminds me that men converse for information and women converse for emotion (mind blown on this crazy realization)--he follows my lead on whatever I may need at the moment and is by my side.  

I am full of gratitude. 

I am trying to be kind to myself.  I am trying to show grace to the kid and whatever is being fired my way because of the tumor and executive functions and all that.  I am trying to navigate my own health issues, as well.  

And I am trying to put those ugly and non-productive thoughts out of my head.  A wise person told me I can't obsess over things I cannot control.  So I am breathing and making lists to obsess over things I can control.  There isn't much, to tell you the truth.  The next few days will be about some serious self-care and Ryan-care when he needs it from me, and taking care of my medical stuff before I focus on everything medical for him. 

I find it interesting how grief and gratitude both consume me lately.  The definition of grief is deep sorrow.  Check.  It's hard to get those ugly feelings out of my head sometimes.  I mean, there is real fear based on something that happened in our family just a few short years ago.  But I am trying to replace the grief with gratitude in the meantime.  This is where Yoda says:  Do or Don't, there is no Try.  

I read an article today from Berkeley about how gratitude changes your brain.  Basically, gratitude separates us from toxic emotions, and has lasting, positive effects on the brain and improves mental health over the long-term.  To me this means I need to be present in the moment and recognize and express gratitude to all of the people around me who are showing support to me and my family.  It means not apologizing for bothering "you" but instead saying, "thank you."  I can do this.  I will do this. 

My brother and I were talking recently and he is so wise.  I wish I appreciated his wisdom when I was a young, entitled 20-something living in his home when I was trying to start a new life (sound familiar?-ugh).  He told me about a book that was gifted to him that essentially said we need to routinely start adding things that bring us joy to our day.  My husband and I agreed this is something we are going to do.  Today that meant swimming in the ocean.  Tomorrow it will mean taking a walk and doing some painting.  I will make myself a schedule, because it is something I can control and obsess over, and find things that bring me joy to add to my daily routine.  I am grateful for the wise words and care from my brother.

Right now, I can see my bottle of water, pictures of my family on my wall, a treadmill in the corner of the living room, a fan, my television that is not on.  Right now, I can touch the kleenex box next to me, the blanket on my lap, the pillow under my arm and the computer keys.  Right now, I can hear my sweet pup snoring, I can hear the television in the next room and I can hear the cars driving on the street outside.  Right now, I can smell nothing.  The air is neutral--and with the animals, this is a good thing!  Right now, I can taste my own saliva, as I try to take a deep breath and calm my racing heart.  

Things I am grateful for:  my family, my pup Eugene, the tribe of friends I am so fortunate to have in my corner, prayers that are being said as we speak for the health of my son (who I love with my entire self), good insurance for both me and Ryan so we can get both of ourselves healthy again.

Things I find joy in:  the angel that came in the form of a pup named Eugene, swimming in the ocean, salted caramel lattes, holding my husband's hand, watching a tv show or movie with Trevor and just laughing, working on my paint-by-numbers project, knitting, really tight hugs, listening to my friends sing and rap a song out of nowhere.  I have awesome friends.  

All of a sudden I am breathing a little easier.  I am not crying anymore and I am even smiling a little bit.  

4 more days.  And then my son will be on the road to recovery.