If you know Amy, you know she has wonderful facial expressions. There is a picture of her as a baby, held against me in a sling, when she looks extremely opinionated. Little did we know how much her full self was shining through at that moment. When she got home from school on Friday I reminded her that this weekend she would need to do Schroth, her physical therapy exercises to help with scoliosis. She peered at me over her pink heart-shaped glasses with a look that was definitely worth a thousand words.
Yesterday we celebrated Valentine’s day with an exchange of valentines in the morning, heart-shaped chocolates throughout the day, and chocolate fondue with strawberries and marshmallows in the evening. Carl and Amy spent many hours skiing, some of which was newly challenging for Amy. Sarah and I spent many hours in our pajamas, reading, napping, looking at photos, and practicing some of her lines for the play she will be in later in the year.
I have been thinking about expressions of stress and how differently it can show up. Sarah is usually quite vocal and physical in her upsets, but there is probably a lot she processes under the surface first. Amy is usually quiet about her stress so if you don’t know to look for it, you might not realize she is dealing with something. Sarah is more like me, while Amy is more like Carl. As we look ahead at our plans, I am ever more conscious of wanting to make choices that steer us away from stress, especially mine and Sarah’s because it is probably our louder upsets that stress our quieter counterparts. Sarah’s sleep continues to be a challenge for her and the rest of us, but we are hoping that reducing stress and focusing more on moments of present loving connection will help. If I’m very honest, there are days like yesterday where we technically are together all day but I don’t actually give her much of my undivided attention. My Sarah-Rise session muscles are out of shape but it’s time to get them going again.
One source of stress is grief, and I know we are all dealing with that. I keep reminding myself that grief may be akin to a physical injury in the recovery it requires. Some moments I can feel as if everything is the same as ever, and I don’t feel sad at all, which can surprise me as much as the moments when I feel gutted seemingly out of the blue. One sneaky grief moment this week was when I went to “favorites” in my contact list to make a call. Of course, my dad is still listed under “favorites,” and I don’t know that I can bring myself to change that because he will always be one of my favorites. Another grief moment was after Carl and I went to an author talk by Calvin Duncan and Sophie Cull. It was such a moving talk that I instantly thought of how much I would want to tell my dad about it and get his thoughts. It breaks my heart that I can’t do either except in my imagination. And yet, I continue to be grateful that we had such a good love connection that my heart can break this much. I’m grateful for the time to express this through tears. I always feel better after a good cry, and then I’m more able to have space and attention for others.
Wishing you space for any and all of your expressions, whether loving, tearful, guarded, or playful.
Leave a Reply