An Honest January

I haven’t been feeling super grounded lately.
Or motivated.
Or energized.
Or ready.
Or hopeful.

I’ve felt like my fuel tank ticker has been holding steady on the “E” lately. A disappointing E. A redundantly empty E.

In broad perspective, this seems ridiculous. Insert any cliché about how grateful I am for our life, because they all apply.

In an internal perspective, I can tell I’m off.

I threw a lot of my heart and soul into trying to save a school we dearly loved last year. It didn’t work for 11 months or so. Our family decided to move schools around July, to give our kids some stability. After the school board finally changed their vote a month after our decision to move, I felt so depleted and honestly unfulfilled, knowing I should be elated for the outcome.  But our school was gutted, and I felt gutted. People told me congratulations. I told my kids that we did it, even if we weren’t there.

But it didn’t feel like a win.

We love our new school and the people within it. But change is work, regardless, even when it’s intentional and even when it’s healing.

Then in November, I had to face that fact that over half our nation does not believe that bullies shouldn’t lead, that women and minorities and their rights matter, that honesty and truth and integrity and a basic lawful existence are important. All our lives, we’ve been taught these things matter.

November threw that in our face. It was an ugly truth to see laid bare.

I don’t mean to say that as political instigation or division. I just truly mean that it felt like a reversal of universal truths I thought most believed in.

It feels like the systems that are supposed to keep justice and goodness standing are merely crumbling to corruption around us.

This Fall, many now-dear friends and I poured our heart into local politics. Electing leaders who truly care about the community. I felt incredibly inspired by the team of compassionate, beyond capable humans I worked with. Couldn’t wait for our candidates to be the leaders they deserved to be.

Only one of our four candidates won.

And our family shared an unexpected loss of Billy in the Spring that frankly my heart still aches from, the hardest goodbye I’ve had to make since Abram. I miss his solid hugs and deep laugh and slow-rolling, witty comments, and know my aunt and my dad and his siblings miss him even more. Losing someone you love simply sucks.

The heart has gotten a work out.

Have you ever noticed, when under stress, the heart and our emotions either go into hyper or hypo response? About a year after Abram, I felt the former significantly. This is the first time I think I’ve experienced the latter.

I have gone back and forth about posting this, but I believe real life is important to share so others feel less alone.

Social media gives us so many highlight reels, filtered snapshots of moments, captions of content. And honestly, for me, those are real too. I loved watching my 11 year old do a full leap on a balance beam many feet up in the air and cheer for her teammates in volleyball. I loved our middle nutball singing her heart out on stage and shimmying with total joyful abandon as a shark in James and the Giant Peach. I loved our youngest starting kindergarten and losing both front teeth and learning to Actually Swim. I started an interesting collection of odd jobs which has stimulated my brain and given me more time with both children and really amazing grown ups. Sheaff and I are obsessed with our screened porch. We also still both like and love each other after 16 years. Four girlfriends convinced me to go to Spain on an adventure and re-ignited the delight of traveling and what it’s like being alive in another country for the pure sake of enjoying it. I watched my kids dance in a flurry storm in the woods this week, and met with so many friends and family less than a month ago to celebrate the most meaningful picture book I could ever write which my own mama illustrated. Like… this is all good. Really good.

I wouldn’t change this circus for anything. (I told you, the cliches apply.)

But real life has it all. Good and bad. It can mean a big ole mess of both.  In between those beautiful moments, there’s bumps and darkness and heartache and struggle and just surviving.

And sometimes, here and there, that mess leaves your tank feeling empty. It’s okay to talk about. According to this document in front of me, it’s okay to write about.

If you aren’t feeling it this New Year…I got you. It’s okay.
If you are on empty…I see you. It’s okay.

My historic personal knee jerk response is to fake it and spout off the 10 lessons I’ve learned that will actually make everything for the better, and that positivity and peace shall reign, damnit.

One of my dear friends once said, “Release the need to be anything you are not at this moment.” Oof. Wisdom.  I keep trying to fake New Years energy.  But this January, the idea of goals and big dreams seems incredibly “blah.” I don’t even have the emotional energy to fake it.

I understand now that means I need to refuel. 

For me, that means family. It means trees and mountains and water and waves. It means moving healthily. It means getting lost in stories, whether I’m reading or writing them. It means listening better to people. Being intentional. 

And soon,
I will feel grounded.
And motivated.
And energized.
And ready.
And hopeful.

What about you friends?
What refuels you? 

What is the warmth you turn to?