When Nothing Feels Good Enough And There's Nothing To Be Done

When something unbelievable happens, something tragic and heartbreaking and unexpected, there are no words that exist to describe how shattered we feel.

This week, another Monday's quick approach has been looming in the back of my mind, big-green-Publish-button day. Last week I wrote out some stuff for myself to try to make sense of my whirling thoughts. I'm glad I did this, as too often I forget this blog is for me. My writing is my tool, my weapon, my healer, my friend, my darkest side, and my biggest hope for light and connectedness.

I was already struggling to find my current heat-of-the-moment ramble, feeling stuck and distracted by other developing aspects of my life.

Then the unimaginable happened when we lost someone so close to our family suddenly, and far too young. This was only two days ago (well, three days, since you're reading this tomorrow), and with all of the thoughts that haven't stopped circulating and all of the heartache I feel for my family and others that were close to him, I didn't think I could attempt to write about a tragic death so soon.

But I'm running out of tears, and running out of ideas. This tiny space on the internet is my sanctuary of vulnerability (and yours too, should you need it). Though it terrifies me to be open, I know I write with healing intentions, and I know my readers visit with love. So for a couple of weeks, maybe longer or maybe never again if it suits me, this space is less about preaching and more about personal healing.

But the most wrenching part of this healing, is that I know this time I crave it for someone else the most. As hurt as I am to have known someone whose life was suddenly over too young, and after fighting so many battles and coming out on top, I never thought that I could hurt for someone else so strongly, for the member of my family that was closest to him.

I feel unworthy of even writing this post about his death, it being so recent and so much more painful for others. But right now, it's all I can think about. Caring for others boldly means you feel for them when the unimaginable happens, and caring for them with everything you have means you don't stop thinking about them when they're suffering.

So while I could have tried to push this terrible news out of my head and write about so many other less-important things to me right now, I know that the awful thoughts are what need to be expressed here. Nothing phony, nothing outside of my heart and mind.

Thank you for allowing me to vent and to take some time to process. Thank you for allowing me to sound self-centered, as I write here about heartache, but truly others are in need of so much more light and love.

I want to apologize for not spilling any details, not offering up a fulfilling message, not sticking to my stubborn side and delivering a striking post this week despite the disconnectedness I feel right now.

But I won't. I told my family they have every right to be as hurt as they want, and I think that's what we all need.

There's never a good time to write when my heart isn't in it. Right now, it's just time for grieving, supporting, and eventually healing. We'll let that be enough.

Please send any prayers and positive energy you have to the ones that need it most right now. Please pray for my family, and for the family of the unforgettably good person who will be horribly missed. We all have the ability to be strong if our will is there, and our determination is empowered by the love and support of others.

I want to just keep typing and typing words, in the hope that something will be soothing enough to make this easier on anyone. But I can't find those words.

So...Namaste, love and healing to all. Especially to you, dear love. May you learn your strength and be at peace before long.

 

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