It may not get better, but it will get easier.
“It may not get better, but it will get easier.” I found myself saying that to a very close friend recently as she learns to navigate a challenging loss. Holding space for someone — truly holding space without judgement or sympathetic platitudes — can be difficult.
We, as human beings, wish so much for pain to abate that simply recognizing and sitting with it can seem antithetical to our existence. However, it is because of, in despite of, and through pain that we grow and evolve.
Six years ago, I spent the last weekend before Halloween overwhelmed, and everything that surrounded me, from the apartment to the shoes on my feet, was newly mine after a loss that is unimaginable to so many.
Five years ago, I spent the weekend overstimulated and exhausted. It was my first weekend alone since I moved across the country - again - and my belongings had finally arrived from California. I struggled so much to simply settle, and the loneliness was all-encompassing.
Three years ago, at the height of the pandemic, I was working three jobs (my full time one in higher ed, teaching as an adjunct, and running my own photography business) trying (& often failing) to just make ends meet. I was also the brand new vice president for a local non profit. In so, so many ways, I was in over my head.
Two months ago, I found myself in a deep depressive low. I have struggled with clinical depression for most of my life, but the pain always seems to take me by surprise. I am forever grateful to those in my life who are not afraid to show up in the dark and messy moments. They cared for me when I was in too much pain to care for myself.
This past Sunday morning, I found myself soaking in the bright morning sun in the home I bought this summer. I sipped my coffee from a mug made locally, and I sat it on a coaster that was a recent gift from a friend who knows that October is a hard month for me. My dog dozed outside on the porch, which is her new favorite place because it allows her to safely be outside without a leash. My cat enjoyed the beautiful morning curled up next to the sliding glass door.
For the first time in a long time, I am hopeful. The feelings of loss, loneliness, overwhelmingness, and pain haven’t necessarily gotten better with time. Believe me, they are absolutely still present, and I still fight them often. They have, however, (and I say this confidently) grown and evolved, as have I over the last few years. The fight hasn’t gotten better, but, as I suspected, it has gotten easier.
