My Life's Pillars
Photo by Jay Chaudhary on Unsplash
It was a year ago today that we received a call from the doctors telling Brynn she had metastatic colon cancer. I remember the moment so vividly... the shock, confusion, and emotions that ensued. It’s sobering how much one’s life can change within a short period of time. And given where we are with current affairs, the world continues to remind me of how little control we have on the macro aspects of our lives. If you had asked me to describe the best possible environment of a grief-stricken world, I would’ve said a place with a reversal of the experience that caused me to grieve to begin with. But flipping that question around, the answer would look similar to where we are today: forced into isolation and living in a state of fear and uncertainty. A world in which you can’t see past your immediate frame.
Shortly after Brynn’s passing, I briefly danced with the idea of self-isolation thinking it would be healing to spend alone time to reflect and contemplate about the experience, my life, and path forward. The introvert side in me enjoys moments of solitude where I spend time with my thoughts. It was my boss at the time that called me up after hearing about my plans and told me it was the dumbest idea he had ever hear me utter, and it said a lot given the amount of them I had in the past. Clearly words of affirmation is his love language. However, that conversation, and ongoing insistence that I reconsider my plans, allowed me to think through the experience of isolation. I was already in a state of feeling alone and abandoned. And now, I would on my own volition remove myself further from the reaching hands that were extended towards me. Was this what I needed in this very raw period of my life?
This brings us to today. In my last post, I briefly touched on struggles with depression caused by the complicated grief I have been experiencing. But this writing is not about that. It’s about the importance of community that had surrounded both Brynn and me throughout, and continues to do so by providing me the pillars I get to lean on as I stumble my way through life. In today’s environment where there is a self-isolation mandate, the feelings of gratitude I have towards my community is amplified, as the importance and dependence I had, and continue to have, is ever so more apparent. Experiencing such loss in the manner I experienced it has resulted in me spending quite a bit of time in my head, as I try to make sense of life, the world, and my purpose. With any traumatic event there’s a deep discovery that goes in to finding who you are after such experience, and re-imagining of your life moving forward. It’s a lengthy process that can only happen over time and asking questions in many ways that will provide different answers as your mental state changes. And some incredible people have been there throughout, giving me a sense of belonging that has afforded me the time and space to go through the discovery of my relationship with grief and the new reality of life. Yes, the very nature of grief and that discovery is a lonely place as I try to navigate the different emotions; although, it’s a journey that I have to take alone, it does not mean I have to be lonely during it.
When this forced isolation began, my immediate reaction was the world continues to challenge my resolve and resilience. But with any experience in life, the way you respond to it is going to be driven by how you frame things. I am not suggesting that my initial response was healthy, nor am I even saying that I don’t struggle with the oscillation of thoughts, emotions and outlook of what is ahead. However, the isolation is becoming a forcing function for me take inventory of where I am; ask the tough questions and face the wide range of internal responses I have about my life, the world, and other areas that I might’ve deferred, as we tend to avoid these hard reflections. I could be looking at this from the perspective of constant challenges coming my way, or take a position that it has been accelerating the healing process given the amount of time you spend on the inquisition. But more so, I’m becoming ok with not having all the answers.
“Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.”
— Ranier Maria Rilke
My biggest struggle has been the lack of imagination I have about the world and myself in it. But this is where my community has been instrumental, creating a force that pulls me back to the center when I deviate too much off the path, or feel lost on this journey of developing a new story to write. I still don’t have a destination in mind yet, but as I walk along, there seems to be a pillar around me that I get to rest on when I am tired, or no longer think I can keep moving forward. Then there are the pillars that have had to carry my entire weight, without condition, judgment and without relenting an inch. I am able to write because of you. And I continue to write because of all of you. And of course for Brynn who continues to be a foundation and my guide.
Every night, Brynn and I would tell each other 3-5 things we were thankful for before going to bed. Recently, an old friend of mine that has been coming in and out of my life over the years reached out to check in after hearing about what had happened. He then began to tell me a daily habit he had developed exchanging a gratitude list with a few friends and asked if I would like to participate, a tradition that I had stopped after Brynn. And for the past several weeks I receive and send a list every morning, giving me the opportunity to pause, take inventory of my life and exercise perspective. Sometimes sitting and looking around can widen your periphery that allows you to capture new views you might have missed.
Years ago, Brynn and I were sitting in this cute restaurant out in Jenner, CA with our dear friends, when a heated debate broke out between Brynn and one of them whether altruism was a genetic or a community/societal trait. I’m not sure who won the argument, or if I’m even providing empirical data to support either point. But I want to say thank you for supporting, protecting, and allowing me lean on you as my pillars as I walk through life and continue to write my story. Remember, your community needs their community more than ever as we navigate through these strange times. Although, you might not be explicitly aware of it, someone is always leaning on you as they go through their own journey.
-Troy