There's no other way to put it, March was hell on wheels. The entire thing was that day of the week you avoid(ed) going to work or school because you know it will be THAT kind of day.
If I saw March crossing the street, I would go the other way.
If "I'll take your lunch money" was a month, March would, totally, be it.
Working on my stand-up , how'd I do?
For those who know me well, you know I'm not big on emotions but there's no way of getting around just how much March crushed me... to the core. Yet, here I am standing at the front door of April looking for the sunshine and sharing a freshly written blog posting when I have one sitting in the drafts. Don't worry, it will be released and will contain more nonprofit sector and less of the heartbreaking journey through start-up. What I couldn't ignore is how life has impacted the journey to start-up in ways I couldn't image and there's no way I'm the first to experience this rollercoaster. Yes, MSH was created in memory of my aunt Meryl, but my goodness, wake me up when it's over because I want off of this ride!
We, the people, as people even, do our best to make sense of most things and there are those who need to make sense of everything - some call it anxiety. We have to give things meaning to help us understand the world around us and, I would argue, to give us peace.
The breeze picks up.
"Oh, there must be a storm coming".
Something smells a little foul.
"Oh, the dog must have a little gas."
You hear snoring as you're falling asleep.
"Oh, the wind must be howling outside."
You see someone in a red jumpsuit.
Your evil twin must be lurking. (It's an "Us" reference - interesting movie).
Still working through my routine; can I quit my day job?
Anything that allows us to heal... anything that allows us to find peace... anything that allows us to make sense of things, events, people and push whatever it is to the back of our mind in that moment with a little bow with hopes that it won't resurface - some call it avoidance. I didn't say it was effective, I said it's a thing people do. And while I don't feel I completely fall into the "make sense of everything" category, I do attempt to find something to anchor myself in for the things of true impact. However, I have to be honest, I find it very difficult to anchor myself in anything or make enough sense of loss to give myself extended peace. Between the resurfacing of "old grief" and the addition of "new loss", over the weekend, I found myself at a place with a desire to wave the white flag. March ended with a reminder that it was, indeed, the boss.
I attended two homegoing services last week and while I still have nothing to anchor my heartbreak in, I have found and continue to find comfort in memories and especially final moments spent with them both. For my grandmother, it was last year - not the last time I would speak with her but the last time I would hug her. My family and I had traveled to FL for an engagement and I wanted her to see the kids so I went to pick her up. Before taking her back home, I asked if she wanted anything to eat. To my surprise, she said yes; the last few years she hadn't been a great eater. We went to grab some burgers and fries; I won't say where, but it isn't a place we have access to in Massachusetts so it's always a stop when I go home, just sayin'. In line, she put up a good fight. She wanted a Pepsi and they only sold Coke - she was feisty. We settled it by getting the drink with the meal and heading over to a gas station near by to put a few of her favorites in the fridge. She wasn't the woman I remembered just months ago.
For the woman I called mom. It had been a year or so. She called just to check in on me. We talked about a bit of everything including finishing my doctorate and starting MSH - I was still in early start-up of MSH. One of the last things she said to me was that she was proud of me and it meant a lot to hear that from her. A woman I had gotten to know through her daughters after moving to MA, and even after I disappeared to take on life's changes, she checked on me and celebrated me - motherly, indeed. During that call we laughed about how we were both always on the go. She wanted to make a plan to come out and see the kids but we never got around to it.
When you're doing something that has never been done or start something new, it can be a scary road. When your passion is also expected to pay the bills, you reach a place where you realize it is sink or swim. There's always something that makes you want to continue to fight while simultaneously feeling like you don't know why you thought you could do whatever that thing is and tell yourself it is easier to give up - some call that imposter syndrome and it is real!
As I drove home from mom's services, like the days before after my grandmother's services, I cried; maybe I should say, I continued to cry. The eulogy sat with me so much so I called my wife and said I don't understand why we lost her but I was meant to be there. The Pastor talked about how mom had stumbled in life and kept getting back up. I was reminded of her words. He talked about how we wake up and especially as women and people of color, we're already at a disadvantage but we keep going. I was reminded of her words but also her actions. There aren't enough words to define how challenging this journey has been overall then someone decided to throw in some additional layers of loss to keep things spicy, I guess.
I couldn't contain myself. I had been carrying a boulder up a mountain and, at that point, my knees buckled. I had become undone on my drive home. Needless to say, it didn't last long; I had things to do and, as you know, I am not okay with not being okay. While I will continue to process loss, what I know for sure is I am where I am meant to be. I am reminded that it was loss and grief that originally propelled me to start MSH and even on the hard days, I am in the right place at the right time and it is something worth anchoring myself in.