Working On Better And Braver

(Photo by author)

“Better” is defined by Google’s dictionary as “Partly or fully recovered from illness, injury or mental stress; less unwell.” Example: “She’s much better today.”

When I experienced the trauma and career-changing stress of 2020, no one handed me a color-coded calendar showing when I will feel what, no “X marks the spot” for the day I will feel better. I just have to keep finding my way through the forest. Some days there are more monsters lurking in the shadows and other days the sun shines through the trees like a candle in a paper bag at Christmas with the most brilliant display of life’s good things.

For many months I wasn’t sure if I would wake up to a monster day or a candle day. Some days it was a victory to shower. Other days I successfully interviewed for jobs while nailing the whole mom gig.

I’ve had a lot of help along the way. My family and friends have provided a safe, loving place to heal and learn. I’ve engaged professionals to listen, guide and teach both mental and physical health.

Many times this year I’ve thought I’d gotten to the spot, the summit of the climb when everything is finally OK. I’ve looked back through my weekly writing, and I can remember so many times feeling like, “This is it! I’m ready to go!” Then, inevitably, something would take a turn and I’d be writing about the latest self-help book I read.

I have defeated many monsters and reached new summits; they are just followed by new ones. The reality is life is continuous and monsters will always come and go. I can see the steady improvement in my energy and attitude, and my toolbox to fight hairy beasts is growing stronger.

Whatever happened to me last year, I have been digging out of a hole. I can’t ask Siri or Google or Alexa how much longer it is to get to the top. But I have noticed I am in a place where more often than not I can imagine going to work everyday. I’ve exhausted the home projects, at least the low-hanging fruit. I’ve developed new Mom skills. I’ve quit eating my way through the day (just in time for the holidays). There are intellectual and contribution holes in my life. I know there is priceless value in feeding, clothing and loving the people in my life, but something is still missing.

The part of me that did all of the stuff on my resumé is still here. There is a curiosity, a need to be back in the mix. I watched people in the airport last week and wondered what they were working on, what decisions they were making. I overheard my cousin as she dealt with the latest issues of her school district, and I talked with her husband about his plans to finish aviation school. I felt so proud of them and their ability to manage a difficult year together. They are a beacon for me, and also a mirror.

I read an article recently about how we are “living history.” It’s freeing to understand we are part of our time and being shaped by it. At the same time, there is so much we can do to continue to move forward and shape the future. While in Florida last week, I visited the Holocaust museum. Not exactly the stop you imagine on a “mom getaway” to the beach, but it was an important experience. There were so many examples of the strength of the human spirit.

So, I conclude I’m better this week, at least better than before. I forge ahead to my next list of meetings, cold calls and unwrapped presents of life. I leave you with a poem I wrote early this year as a reminder of the brave potential in all of us:

Brave

You might not be Superman

But you are going to have to be braver

Than anything you’ve imagined.

Forget monsters and dragons,

You’ll be showing your soul,

The worst horror show.

And you won’t see the chainsaw

Until you are naked and afraid.

You will want to run so far

Until you’ve made it back around.

And the dark and light won’t be different,

Until it is.

And you realize you were this brave

All along.

In every day and every hard way you chose,

There is a God

And He will show you

What we saw all along, what you thought just might be there.

And you will be brave.

Braver than me.

Braver than Lois Lane.

It will look small at first,

But it will be

So large and wide and whole.

And we will be there

To see how you reach the top,

When fear is a whisper

And you holler for joy.