Thoughts On A Life Upended

In the very first prompt in my new grief journal (Megan Devine’s How to Carry What Can’t Be Fixed), I was asked to reflect on my starting point as I sat there with the new journal. I’m not going to share my exact response, but I did want to turn part of it into a blog post.

Toward the end of my writing I was struck by the image of myself standing in the middle of a large expanse of flat, empty land. The only thing in the field besides myself is a tall, dead tree that had been struck by lightning. Scorch marks radiate across the field.

There is SO MUCH potential in the field. So much possibility in the emptiness. I can literally build anything I want there, do anything I want with the space. But the weight of that emptiness? It can be crushing.

I know there’s a popular metaphor about how certain types of trees only reproduce after forest fires, and how that can apply to our life because you never know what can grow out of devastation…but I am not a fucking tree. I did not NEED my life to burn down to grow and change and evolve. I was actually doing a pretty good job of it (in my personal opinion) before I lost everything.

I absolutely have privilege that allows me to carry my grief without extra burdens that so many people face – my financial and housing situations are secure. I have people who I can reach out to if I need something. I have pets at home who serve as unofficial therapy pets. I can afford to go to regular therapy and buy books like my new grief journal. But even without many extra burdens, finding myself in a position where I feel like I’m basically starting over and having to figure out a plan Z for my life? It really, really sucks.

I could pick up and move. I could decide I never want to have any more kids. I could pursue adoption. I could decide to switch careers and dedicate myself to some noble cause. I could do literally anything with the now blank slate of my life. But I don’t *want* any of that. The life I had before was beautiful, full of love, fostered growth, and filled my soul. WE HAD PLANS – wonderful plans. I didn’t want a do-over. I didn’t want this. I don’t want this.

But nevertheless here I stand, arms stretched out, next to a dead black tree in a wide open field where the remains of my old life have been cleared away, and only memories left. So if it seems like I’m struggling, or that I’m “stuck” or whatever else you might call a lack of oomph in my life (for lack of a better word), please bear with me. It takes a LOT of energy to make something out of nothing, especially when that nothing wasn’t asked for, and wasn’t wanted.