Be Going Back to the Laundry Room

The pull of the dirty, messy clothes.

I am a mess!

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The rhythm of the washing machine.

I crave this rhythm!

The quiet cave in the bottom of my house.

I find this time!

A place to rest.

A place to cry.

A place to be.

The first place I went to once we returned to our house after my mom died. (Read at your own risk!)

The place I return to.

Daily.

Allowing myself to feel deeply.

Being filled with my grief.

Sitting in it.

The boat of grief amongst the waves of sorrow.

My feelings are deep.

But I am full of gratitude for these feelings.

For this time of being.

Allowing these feelings to not turn to anger, bitterness or other things that will tie me down.

Each day is a continual letting go.

A releasing.

A moving forward, while grieving the past.

The gift of grief.

I painted this during the quiet of the morning after my bike ride.
Is this my mom’s chalk outline?
Mine?
My old self?
Or something all together different?
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In a stage of unknowing.

Being patient with myself and others.

Giving grace.

Receiving it.

Just being exactly where I am.

In the laundry room

Be Going Under

The waves pour over me.

The grief is profoundly painful.

Tears flows readily.

One year ago, my mom went into the hospital in excruciating pain.

Seventeen days she spent there.

The first time!

Our family was forever changed.

The knots that held my life together were unravelled, split apart and thrown into the fire.

Relationships changed forever.

Expectations shifted.

Pain.

Anguish.

Out of control.

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I will walk through my grief.

I will keep moving.

I know my strength, my weaknesses, my failings, my ways…

I will reach up towards the friends who love and accept me.

I will ride my bike.

I will give myself time and grace.

I will lie down when I need to.

I will not use food to soothe my soul.

I will not watch the news.

I will not put this on my boys.

I will not put my heart into a place where I could be wounded.

I will continue to deal with my stuff.

I will continue to loosen the rope, letting go of expectations.

I will cry.

I will seek God.

I will keep my eyes open for the light.

I will hold on as I go under.

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