We closed our chapter in DC in a flurry of activity. But in some ways, it felt quiet. A quiet, calm departure from a place that held us close through a very difficult time. We quietly packed up our bags and left the city. We departed for a quiet beach, empty for a few chilly off season days, we spent time listening to the waves lap up on the beach. A quiet trip through Philadelphia to see family and then on to Columbus for a few quiet days with friends.
Quiet.
Why does it all feel so quiet?
We plod forward, one foot in front of the other on to the next thing. Quietly gliding through time, no waves shaking our stability, no obstacles slowing our progress. Time quietly slides through my fingers. Even in the moments that feel thick, the quiet is constant.
The quiet doesn’t necessarily feel good, but I don’t think that the quiet is bad either.
In some ways, I think some of the demons I have battled constantly since Han’s death have stopped the constant chorus that made it impossible to find peace. The demons are still there, but they take turns. Presenting themselves fully and without disguise for what they are - they are no longer a faceless chorus. I know each and every one of them. I usually recognize the demons and know what they like, what they don’t like. And, sometimes they even have the decency to know when I can’t accommodate them. Sometimes they are polite enough to offer me a rain check. The demons reliably show up for their time when they sense an opening.
And the demons are growing up. Maturing and developing in Han’s absence. Transforming in me and around me. Watching me and learning from me. Integrating sadness into more moments. Anger melts like butter as it sinks into new thoughts, igniting new frustrations. And the scarier, darker feelings are more comfortable. I’ve stared into the darkness, but am not tempted by its comforts. The juvenile, unprocessed pains of early grief are replaced by their more complex counterparts. I am not sad - sad feels too simple, too plain. I ache. I feel it in my whole body. A persistent sense of being incomplete. Fatigue is a constant companion. I am rarely tortured by my demons, but their presence is constant. An unceasing strain on the heart and mind.
I have a lot of gratitude for my yoga teacher training. During my training, I learned some skills and ideas that have helped shift my perspective on some of the ways that my grief shows up in my life. I’ve talked about ahimsa before, the principle of nonviolence. Early on in our training, one of our instructors talked about how the principles we were learning changed her and how she showed up in so many ways. It changed how and who she was in relationships. For the month after yoga teacher training, I journaled everyday about ahimsa and how I was trying to practice it in my life.
There are some ways that ahimsa and non violence feel intuitive - not harming others which could mean just being considerate. In our training, refraining from consuming meat and animal products was a way to show ahimsa. Not littering, or picking up trash, can be another form of ahimsa. What I have been working on is ahimsa to self. I have a lot of room to grow in showing kindness to myself. It’s challenging to walk back my tendency to be overly self critical, but I am trying. And it’s easy to indulge in things that might briefly feel good but might really be unhealthy coping mechanisms. What I have worked on the most recently is protecting myself from myself.
It might be easy to turn away from life right now. It’s tempting to draw inward, let the quiet grow and spread. But that’s not the way that I want to live my life. I want to go to baby showers, weddings, birthday parties, and graduations. Plan trips, go new places, visit old places, and experience the world. I hope we get to have a family. I hope we rescue more pugs. I hope we get to build a new home together in a place that we love. And to do that, I’m going to have to feel a lot of feelings. I am going to experience pain in all the moments of joy. I am going to think about Han and almost every moment will make me miss him a little bit more.
Last weekend I flew to Denver to see my friend Cammie and attend her baby shower. I landed at the airport and experienced a trigger! I had forgotten - airports are a trigger. Watching Han’s body box get loaded onto planes coming home from Alaska haunts me. Landing in Denver activated that memory, paired with the stress of being apart from Mike for the first time since before Han was born. I was emotionally heightened, there is no disguising the fact that attending a baby shower and being around my beautiful, pregnant friend was going to be hard. I was more compromised than I was willing to admit.
I cried when I boarded the plane and when the plane was landing, I tried to contain the feelings. But these feelings were too big to contain! As we began the process of deplaning the tears really started. My mask felt suffocating and I could feel my nose running. As I walked through Denver’s Terminal C, I wept. Visibly crying and audibly breathing, obviously emotional to my fellow travelers. I scurried down the escalator to the end of the tram boarding area and snagged a seat alone at the end of the car and cried. I cried really hard. I took my mask off and let it out. A not so quiet demon had found me.
I couldn’t tear my mind from the day we traveled home from Alaska. Over and over, my mind picks out painful moments to replay. The first babies I saw after Han’s death. The tears I shed over my breakfast. The extreme exhaustion that settled in during our flight. While I sat on that train drowning in pain I recognized that what my mind was doing to me was hurting me. It wasn’t some sort of helpful processing of trauma or grief, it was just pain. No benefit to me or anyone else. This pain is not an homage to my son, I wasn’t living in the glory of who he was but tortured by some of the hardest moments of my life.
I started naming, out loud, what was happening. I told myself, my pain, that it didn’t need to be here. I did not need to cry and suffer like this. This pain was not giving me anything. I am here because I want to have joy in my life. I am here because I want to support one of my dearest friends. I am here because I want to live what is left of my life as fully as possible. I am here because I will not let Han’s death stop me from living. I am here for joy. I can cry because I am happy for my friend. I can cry because I am happy. But I am done crying for painful memories. I am done living in these memories. Fortunately, I was by myself through the first stop and could audibly coach myself out of that grief spiral. I could calm myself down.
Cammie kindly picked me up from the airport and I promptly exploded in tears of joy seeing her glowy, gorgeous, pregnant self.
It wasn’t the easiest weekend, but after stating my purpose and my intention for the weeknd I was able to lean in and celebrate my friend’s growing family. I could, almost, be in the moment and be part of her loving community. I want to be part of this baby’s village. And as hard as it is, it would be so much harder not to be able to be there for my friend. It would be heartbreaking to be unable to show her the love and care that I have for her. And so we push forward, feeling the pain and leaving the quiet. Cultivating strength and learning how to be again.
And an update on us! I’ve been omitting these lately because either we’re static or incredibly mobile. Or I just didn’t feel like it. 🙂 The past month I have been focused on pushing toward my Yoga Teacher Certification and packing up for the next leg of our adventure. The focus paid off! I received my Yoga Teacher Certification!
We’re back in Houston, Mike driving in from Chicago and me flying in from Denver. After our time in DC we drove up to Dewey Beach for a couple days of decompression. Then we visited family in Philly and friends in Columbus. Went our separate ways and our back in Houston preparing for the next adventure. We’re heading to Hawaii! Via Las Vegas for a few days with friends and family.
We are planning on spending a week on the Big Island, a week in Maui, a week in Kauai, ending our time there with a month in Honolulu. If you have any tips for our time there, we would love them! We’ll be seeing lots of friends. If you’re around, let us know. We’re still piecing together the rest of the year and the rest of our lives, but we’ve got some things pulling us forward.
Hi Amy, it’s wonderful you are intentionally choosing how you want to live your life even though it means facing your pain constantly. Congratulations to Cammie 🙌 You’re a beautiful friend ❤️🩵
This is beautifully written and was so meaningful to read. Thank you for sharing ❤️