Sweet Euphoria is Killing Me

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That sick, sinking feeling is creeping in…. 

Yesterday lingers still and I wake to that in-between moment I’ve experienced way too many times in my life. The grief-pit morning redo. Where you go to sleep knowing someone you love so deeply is no longer in this world. Then you wake in a haze of dreamy forgetfulness, your brain clicks on and your stomach drops and you know… oh, right, they’re dead and I can’t see them anymore. The daily dose of… fuck, that happened. 

This time it wasn’t me that lost someone close. 

It was the universal loss of an icon that sang the soundtrack to a big part of my life. 
I carry my grief in a mason jar. Like dirt settled in the bottom. All it takes is a stir and my being is swimming in murky waters…. again. 

An onslaught of emotions has me ready to run, flee, dodge, duck and crawl under the covers of the past because of course I put on his music and prod my own despair. 

It’s deep, dark and familiar there. 

Settling for that torture vs moving forward. There’s this space, this swirl of sweet sickness on my tongue, choking out hopes & dreams that seem easier to let die. 

Yet today’s my sons 8th grade graduation and tonight I start a three day Satsang with one of my most divine spiritual mentors. 

What a space to be in. Like a divine hammock hanging over the flames of a dying fire. 

On goes the dress, the makeup mask, the bracelet shackles and the heels high enough to step over the shit scattered all about my tunnel-vision. 

I sit there in the auditorium clapping for kid after kid, numb and excited, fleeting thoughts of their bright futures and… the complete unknowns of life they will continue to face. 

Life, it is a bittersweet symphony. 

A sweet and tragic euphoria. 

Somehow it’s over. I’ve snapped his pics and life marches on toward high school. We leave to check my daughter out early too and in a moment the school year has ended for us all. Their pressures relieved. The beach to look forward to in July. Lunchboxes put away and alarms turned off… ahh, this should feel… I simply can’t feel. 

That relief doesn’t come. 

My kids are spectacular and we talk about everything. My daughter can sense something’s still not right with me. She knows the ebb and flow I surf between elation and grief. Often either full on or checked out. Day to day seems to have more balance than I’m describing here yet it’s a blog and I don’t know you and here’s a space I can get raw, real and vulnerable with you and more so with myself. 

I’ll share more about my personal loss another time. Let’s just say… it, death, has been a lead-role in the story of my life. 

So, there we are. Here I am. 

Driving with kids talking about life. Liv asks how I’m doing. I’m authentic and I say “This week has been really rough, I feel like anxiety is driving the grief-bus to Depressionville.”

 She immediately responds …”Then you need to take a detour on the Magical Mystery Tour!” I’m truly raising amazing kids.

 They know it’s ok to sit with emotions and things don’t have to be “ok” cause that’s a candy-coated load of dysfunctional society right there. 

Truly… when someone’s overwhelmed or sad or mad or whatever. Why do we feel the need to try and make it ok? Like ok is the goal and anything else is you being a burden?? 

Ultimately, yes… living a deep, meaningful and joy-filled life is my way. It’s my 75%. It’s my… let’s get lost in love and fuck this society shit. Not only do I survive… I thrive. 

My spiritual practices have helped me get there. They sustain me. My meditation practice, my gratitude practice, my nature to be in awe of nature. 

I’m not afraid to visit the darkness though. It’s here I continue to let more light in. 

So with my daughters suggestion we immediately put on the Beatles. 

We get a little goofy. 

… and briefly we’ve turned the bus around.  😉🏹 🚌 #thenwesang

The desire to withdraw hits again as soon as we get home. I start writing. A past lover from California calls (sharing that story next) we talk, he talks, I listen. I write… 

Now  it’s almost time to leave for my weekend workshop of spiritual healing, deep meditation, energy work where I’m the recipient this time and… 

The flames stop licking at the hammock, my excitement to learn more about this current state grows. I think about which journal I’ll take for the weekend. The spiral of life turns on and once again I’ve no idea where my bus is headed and I don’t really care. 

It’s the journey of life. 

I’m still all in. 

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