It’s All About The Phases
Learning that grief and joy are two sides of the same coin
It’s funny how many times in life, we can learn the same lesson over and over again until one day it just…clicks. Much of the past two years have been tumultuous and beautiful with life never ending its wave of violent tides or calm ones.
The lesson that’s been hitting me over the head is that grief and joy can exist simultaneously. What an odd yet ever so common concept. Feeling joyful and grateful for various life events, while having to let go of what once was, or what you thought this new life event would feel like, can give us grief we might not have expected. Often we’re always looking towards the next thing: the next house, career opportunity, relationship, vacation, car etc. We forget that these transitions can bring their own injuries. Those injuries may come in different forms: bouts of crying randomly, feeling lost, feeling alone, feeling different, anxiety, boredom. You name it, it can come. And often times it does — even if people don’t speak about it.
I know for me, the past few transitions in my life (career change, engagement, house change, marriage) have been such stunning moments, but filled with realizations and shifts in perspectives. Shifts I didn’t even know I needed and when they came sweeping in, I was filled with grief. I didn’t want to feel anything other than elated joy but what has been so clear is our capacity to hold contrasting emotions at all times.
Grief and joy can exist simultaneously.
Knowing this, embracing it, and just letting it be — is what has been getting me through. And also, knowing I’m not alone. I see myself in so many people. The woman who is depressed due to post-wedding blues, missing her days of planning and looking forward to her one day. Although it’s a societal romantic concept, I am still her. The person going through a life change who lost some friends along the way and space now exists where there once was none — I am him. The person who is screaming for a different career yet works their 9–5 because they just don’t know how to move forward with their dreams. Well…I’ve been them for years now. And all of us — moving through a global pandemic, news of violence almost daily, women’s rights being examined and transgender individuals being oppressed. We’re all of each other.
In my grief, in my joy, I might feel loneliness…but I am certainly not alone. And that, in and of itself, is a comfort. To know this is a traumatic time for us all in a myriad of ways. To know that if I separate myself from the bird’s eye view, and look at my own life, it’s not bad at all. It’s tough, but who says that just because the journey might be tough, that it won’t be worth it?
I’m building my resiliency muscle, my emotional intelligence is slowly growing, my humor for life is popping up during moments of sadness, because if I can’t laugh at shit and not take it so seriously — I’ll be even more of a wreck. And the people I have who are by my side, are nothing short of fabulous. And they remind me that I can smile and laugh and not be so hard on myself when all I feel is disappointment and wreckage. That the grief in letting go of certain friendships, changes in stages, moving into adulthood more and more, is quite normal.
It’s all about the transitions and phases. And while moving through those, no matter how hard we’ve worked and anticipated the next step, or dreamed of the next step, change can bring up some low emotions we may not have thought we had in us. One phase bleeds into the next, and the next and the next, and pretty soon you’re looking back at just how much has changed and how far you’ve come.
I’m not who I once was. The single NYC girl living (practically) alone, who had no one to answer to and nothing to do on weekends or after work. Going to restaurants or bars and looking for “the one” as if finding a relationship was going to automatically cure my self-loathing. Going to my day job trying to find an escape route, but feeling stuck in golden handcuffs. Hearing the old adage, “if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere,” yet struggling to make it out mentally sane, at all. Staying out late and having such fun running around with friends, bar after bar, week after week. Those glorious youthful moments spilled into crying alone as a cab drove me across the Brooklyn Bridge. They painted the tapestry of my twenties. That and a lot of meaningless work, and travels to Europe. Only to always realize — I am wherever I go.
I’m not that person anymore. And thank goodness. I am her only a bit more interesting, still a hot mess, still finding my way, still a curse word around the corner of every ended sentence, and a refined taste in tequila and wine. I am her, only now with a bit more muscle and grit. With a clearer version of who I want around me, and more appreciation in my heart for those who always were, even when I was a bit too blind to fully see it.
Realizing that grief and joy can exist simultaneously and to let myself feel all the things, has opened me up. I want to be someone — scratch that — I am someone, who feels things very deeply. Slightly dramatic sadly, and always sensitive. I need to process and internalize.
I urge us to allow ourselves to feel things. Even if they seem inappropriate at times, or confusing. To not beat ourselves up. To let it move through us and pass. To find some humor when there seems to be none. To go outside and breathe. If the time is tough now, it’s likely just a phase. Surrender. Enjoy it, because it’ll soon be gone.
At least that’s what I’m telling myself.
