All At the Same Time
Tuesday Tidings #4
Every other Sunday, I hop onto Zoom call and join a group of five other beautiful souls (who have become very dear, dear friends) to discuss a set of readings. Collectively and also separately, we are on a (spiritual) path that begins with self-reflection. From that place of looking within, I can, in the safe, non-judgy company of others, take stock of myself. Really, I can connect more fully to myself and allow the reality of who I am (vs. the image I want to present) to emerge.
This past Sunday, as I listened to the first person share about an awareness they had about themselves, I felt the water bubble up in my eyeballs. My feet got a little restless below me and my toes pressed down into the hardwood floor. My butt wiggled a little bit against the acrylic chair, and my hands ran, slowly but surely, through the whips of hair that had freed themselves from the pony tail that sat perched on top of my head. With my eyes scanning the five other Zoom boxes, the heat rose up from my belly and pushed into my heart.
Now the sadness was impossible to ignore.
When you’ve been in a really bad place for a long time, and have gone through the painful, heavy lift to climb up and out, all you really want to do is live in the upside. To admit that there are some not so great things, or even just some “meh” sort of things, seems like a betrayal of all that hard work. At least, this is what I recognize to be true for me right now.
Which is why, as I listened to someone else share (ah yes, the power of storytelling in community), I found myself wanting to resist the truth (or is the fulness?) of my Thanksgiving weekend. Because while I’m super happy and beyond grateful, while my life is filled with all kinds of amazing love in all shapes, sizes, forms, and while I enjoyed a very simple, easy, quiet day on Thursday (it was beautiful in its simplicity), I was also, underneath, very sad.
For me, there is a lot of grief attached to Thanksgiving. At least this year. It is the second one without Barbara. The first one without being with parts of my family which means it marks a dubious anniversary of an ending that I would prefer to ignore. Which is why, last Tuesday, right here, I wrote a whole piece about (some of) my thoughts on AI instead of a more expected “the-holidays-can-be-rough” or “this-is-a-time-for-setting-intentions” post (thankfully, others whom I admire wrote about all that so I could benefit from their wisdom).
It was where my head was at but not really where my heart was at. Because my heart did not want to express my deep sadness, and yes, grief, around the loss of a portion of my family.
Without getting into the minutiaes of the this and that, the whatcha hickers and the blah, blah, blah of what did or didn’t happen and why, I will keep it simple and just say that the reasons for that loss, ultimately, are positive. They speak to the heavy lift of digging myself out of the dark, lonely place that I mentioned at the start of this post. They are the result of my willingness to break a life-long pattern. They reflect my choice to prioritize my own self-care and self-respect (which, btw, means honoring, accepting and respecting others right where they are not where I want them to be). Beyond that, the specifics are not so important in my mind. Besides, they are always debatable, and dependent on your point of view on the thing. They can also change over time given new information or a fresh perspective (which is why I choose to keep an open mind).
But that’s the thing. My mind is not the issue here. It is my heart.
As the only one responsible for myself, I get to make certain choices and decisions to care for myself. To love myself like that comes from my heart and requires me to trust in what my heart knows, not just what it feels. And that’s what I was finally able and willing to so which has meant a loss. I’m okay with that because I have a lot of contentment (which is even better than happiness) in my life. But it still sucks. And it still hurts—a lot.
Both things can be true at the same time.
Which means I do not need to avoid the discomfort or the pain. To feel the sadness, to shed the tears, and to curl up in bed in the morning and resist getting up does not betray the hard work I have put in to be where I am now. I can long for this particular situation to be different and grieve that it is not as I move forward into even more joy.
Because I don’t need to do anything except acknowledge that this sadness is here and that it is very real. To do that, I can talk about it. I can certainly write about. I can feel it in my heart and give myself the space to cry about it. I don’t have to do anything else. I don’t have to fix anything. I don’t have to change anything or anyone—especially me. And I don’t have to worry that it will consume (or subsume) everything else. I can just accept it as being what it is alongside and along with everything else in my rich, full life.
I can allow all these things to be true at the same time.
Here is a link to the latest episode from the Discoball Tour Day 6&7: “Lead-foot Rader.”
If you want to start from the beginning of the Discoball Tour series, watch Discoball Tour Day 0: “Getting Ready.”
You’re also invited to subscribe to my channel on YouTube and get notified when new episodes release.
And please do me a small favor…
…and help me get the word out about all these amazing women’s voices that fill up the tent.
Meals Out: Guess what? I went to brunch. But I did not go to brunch at Water Street Kitchen (a must when I am home) on Sunday. Instead, I went to Hendricks Tavern in Roslyn, NY on Saturday. Changing things up, ya’ll!
Listening (voice): Omg, I am officially a super-fan of Channels with Peter Kafka—a must listen pod if you are remotely interested in media, content, creative anything and the convergence with AI. Listening to these conversations I feel validated, inspired and terrified—all at the same time. Also, as a person making content as a way to build a space for women to share their stories (and pondering how that intersects with commerce as in “how do I pay my bills doing any and all of this”), it feels like the best kind of podcast for me to take in right now. Truly.
Listening (song most likely on repeat): Slow Ready by Goose is not a new-to-me song and I did not listen to it on repeat this weekend, but when it came across the car sound system while driving back to NYC from Long Island, it hit me just as the light outside of the car hit me.
So, yeah, it struck an auditory and visual experience…at the same time. (Link to Apple Music and embed to Spotify).
Watching: Well, I am not watching anything on my iPad this week (aka no British mystery shows) ‘cause I’m not at home. Instead, I watched Season 1 of Friday Night Lights (for the first time ever) while editing the next episode of the Discoball Tour Docu-Series because, yeah, I know…ok, fine—some things do not need to happen at the same time.
Most Hours Logged Doing: Spent the weekend doing a mix of lounging on the couch (with and without my laptop) and checking out the Sands Point Preserve (well worth a visit with some great walking trails, views of the Long Island Sound and uh, at least two CASTLES—all at the same time)
Tuesday Morning Meditation: 12.2.25 (wait, it’s already December?!?)
I can care for myself, and leave space for someone else. I can mourn the loss of somebody else and embrace the fulness of who I am. I can contract into sorrow while I expand into joy. That’s how I can have it all at the same time.
Is there a topic you would like me to write about in a Tuesday Tidings? Cover in a podcast episode? I am curious about what you are curious about and would love to hear from you so leave a comment below or drop me line.
Beautiful my friend. Thank you for your open vulnerability in sharing the hard stuff so that your readers can also explore the possibility of becoming open and vulnerable ourselves 🩵