This is the first of five posts over the next ten days as part of Momalom’s Five for Ten. All participants are writing about the same topics in an honest effort to get to know one another better and make more online connections. Today and tomorrow we’re writing our own perspectives about courage. If you are already a regular reader of Coffees & Commutes, I hope you enjoy the series and consider visiting other participants. If you are finding your way here for the first time as part of Five for Ten, welcome! I can’t wait to get to know you too. I’m hoping to make it around to everyone as much as I can.
Sometimes I am startled by what remains, by a memory or a moment whose importance and power I had not realized. Other times I am not at all surprised to see the heavy lump of something there, in my hands, reminding me again of its impact on the shape of my life.
I read and sat nodding my head in understanding, a few tears rolled down my face. It’s very hard for me to even begin to share, which is just one reason why I knew this was it. My courage post. My own journey into seeking understanding and acceptance of the power and importance of a single moment in my life. The death of my mother.
She died of a serious disease when I was only four. Her death shaped my entire life, but it was only obvious to me how much when I became a mother. For many reasons, some of which I discussed in a guest post at An Attitude Adjustment, the loss of her just seems more profound now.
Someone once said to me: Never underestimate the impact of losing a mother at such a young age. Though conceptually I know that this is true, I’ve never allowed myself to explore and understand the depth of truth to me specifically until recently. Only a few months ago I found the courage I needed to try. To take that journey into finding understanding and, hopefully someday, acceptance and peace for what this loss has meant to me, done to me. It takes courage to face the fear I feel in taking this path of self-exploration, to plunge deeply into my soul and to look, as Lindsay says for pieces of treasure, fossils, messages from [what feels like] centuries ago.
You see, I’m always in my head, and in my heart, and I have to get it out. So I’m doing that. It’s hard, it’s scary and overwhelming, and yet so unbelievably cathartic. I’m doing it, one step at a time, I’m doing it and I’m learning more about myself than I ever thought possible. I had no idea of all the connections I’m discovering. From the fear comes good, comes meaning. It makes the pain seem less random. It’s taking so much courage, but with each sift, I move closer to understanding and yes, I think, I hope, the peace that I need.
So thank you Lindsay for inspiring me, for giving me the courage to write this post. There is so much more, but for now this is all I am brave enough to share.