Lighting the way.

Today has been a very reflective day.  Lots of introspection.  Lots of being in the present, yet past and future at the same time.  I'm a bit in love with days like these... looking back, being giddy about the future however scary or unprepared (or maybe prepared) I am for these next steps.

With all that has happened in the last few weeks between personal and professional obstacles, I feel that I am dancing to the final song at my own pity-party.  Maybe not pity party? But something close to it. Mulling over thoughts, so many thoughts.  But this morning as the clouds finally parted, literally, in Doylestown and the windows were opened for the first time in days, I am here.  Excited about what all of this has to hold, all of what I have experienced.

Recently there has been a rather huge debate if I would be allowed to walk during my graduation.  I am short one class (I complete this class in early July and receive my degree at that time).  And my school unfortunately has been unwilling to be flexible with a request to walk in May.  It is what it is... that is the mantra these days, and I am okay with this decision (finally).  However that does not take away the fact that I do receive this long, awaited masters degree in July.  A milestone I honestly never thought I would reach.

The last few weeks as individuals have been approaching me with those questions we all love, what are you doing next? Where are you going? Have you started applying for jobs? These questions have felt so taboo, so abnormal, so surreal.  The moments when I have been on this road before the rug has sneakily been slipped out from under my unstable feet.  The stop -- start -- stop -- start motion, the push -- pull -- push harder -- pull harder for your life tug of war has been so constant that within these moments of what are you doing next?  I am speechless (because the tugging has stopped, I am here, I am stable). However, if you know me well, you know that being speechless is incredibly uncharacteristic of who I am. And these next steps are usually some of my most awaited, anticipated and favorite pieces of my life.

I knew in high school where I would be for college, I knew before I graduated college where I would be working as a teacher, I knew when I was diagnosed where I would apply for Grad School since I was unable to work, and I knew when internships came around in both Boston and Doylestown for Grad school, the answers were clear.  I thrived in these moments of next steps.  I loved them, and secretly I still do -- it has just been so difficult to express them when there was such a fear that the stair case I was walking up could possibly crumble under me, at any point in time.

The last few weeks I have been completely stagnant.  Refusing to look at jobs, apartments, or areas I desire to reside in.  Ignoring the fact that I am approaching my last class of my degree, and focusing on all other things, except for what my next move would be.  Enjoying the present has been my saving grace, and I believe I have conditioned myself so much to appreciate the now, to be grateful in every moment, that the future, the excitement and anticipation of new challenges, opportunities, and a life never felt within reach.

But here we are,
and although I can't quite believe it --
It's here.

Today, and this week I finally started exhaling the present, the moments of open windows, sunshine, fresh laundry, a home cooked meal, being in the now and inhaled the possibility of next year. Inhaled the possibility of living in New Jersey, or New York, or Connecticut, inhaled the option of counseling children, college students or trauma survivors, inhaled the knowledge of new chapters, new adventures with my love, my family, my dear friends.  And inhaled the realization that ready or not, I am about to step into a world that I have awaited five long years for.

So it is days like these, my loves.  That inspire me to write, to record, to acknowledge that this was the moment so many of you have pushed, supported, and led me into.  It is the moment when you and I, myself especially, recondition myself from thinking:



look what I have overcome..
                                          to
look what I am about to do..




It is the ultimate, most beautiful, empowering thought --
and I am so overwhelmed and so grateful for it.

So, here is to days of reflection,
and to all of you
for lighting the way.

Love and light,
B.

Tides, they turn.

My amazing grandfather passed away two weeks ago -- and although I wrote about him quickly in my last post, goodness, I am struggling more with his loss than I ever anticipated.

Two years ago... when I looked like this....

I thought about death everyday. I was constantly in and out of the hospital, received hourly in-patient fluids, medications, and had very little to no quality of life.  Death for me, was so close in some ways.  I had processed what would happen if I passed, how I wanted people to remember me.  I told everyone that I loved how much and deeply I cared for them, and I let those at the hospital those terrible weeks that we weren't sure what my body would do anymore that I wanted a DNR on my chart.  My body was too weak, I had accepted what was coming -- or what I thought was coming.  And mentally, I had let go.

I replay that moment in my mind every so often, and truly processed it with close friends and supports.  And realized the day that I finally told my body it was okay to let go, it took that energy and somehow started fighting back.  It taught me as a Type A person, that I really could not control anything anymore and even with all the mental preparation, the possibility of a funeral, and feeling as though I could touch the end, somehow I am here today.

But for so long in the beginning of my journey, I was at the edge of that cliff.  Not knowing what treatment or how far my disease would progress to send me off and beyond.  Now, as I distance myself further and further from these moments, somehow.... Death has become scarier and grief has become different.  It is so hard to swallow, but as I look back on the last two weeks and how much my grandfather's death has affected me I realize I am no where close to the edge of that cliff, and because I'm no longer there anymore I now see that other people are walking closer, and it is in fact more painful than being there myself.

It felt easier somehow, easier and more secure and controllable if I was that person.  I was the one potentially leaving, I experienced glimmers of being in and out of consciousness, it was me.   As tides turn in our lives I realize only now that my grief and sense of death has drastically changed.

Never, do I wish for anyone to feel what I felt during those days two years ago.  But, never do I wish the deep pain of loss for those feeling healthy, knowing there might not be a reconnection with those lost in the near future.  I am grateful, but I am pained over what lenses I was staring through not too long ago and and over those that I am staring through now.

The tides have turned, and once again I learn to let go... to let go of the control, I so wish I still had.
And I'm sure the control, we all wish we had when it comes to losing a loved one.

Sending love and light to you and all of your loved ones,

B.

Pop, relaxing with me in the sunshine during his last days..