Photo by Ann Fossa on Unsplash

Despite years of fighting against it, I can’t seem to break the habit of being in a hurry. Wash the dishes and tidy the kitchen—hurry! Have a bunch of errands to do? Calculate the most efficient way to accomplish them all and drive faster than the speed limit to do so. Have your life upended by the deaths of important people (and animals), move, renovate a house, say goodbye to your last paying writing client, and survive a major hurricane—hurry up and recover from all that grief, stress, and change.

I’ve written several times about how the events of the past few years have challenged and broken me, and also about how I’m beginning to heal. I apologize if you’re sick of these topics. I’m a little sick of them myself, but they continue to be in the forefront of my mind and I continue to learn that you just can’t hurry things like grief, healing, and growth.

Healing staggers forward, swerves sideways, collapses on itself. One day I can be putting clean laundry away and think, “Hey, I feel pretty energetic today!” The next, a handful of errands leaves me exhausted and wanting a nap. I need to stop declaring the process done, even to myself.

My old life truly has been broken into pieces and a new one is slowly taking shape out of the rubble. I very much identify with Janice MacLeod’s words: “A lot of life was breaking down. I’m still in the crumble of some of it. I call that stage What am I gonna do what am I gonna do what am I gonna dooooo….” 

I feel you, Janice. I still don’t know what I’m “gonna dooooo” with the rest of my life.

I do know that I’m not going to rush it. I’m looking for clues in things that spark my curiosity, activities that bring delight, and routines that produce deep satisfaction. I question “the way I’ve always done it,” and open my mind and heart to alternatives. I’m very grateful for the privilege of time to sort all this out. This time of transition is taking longer than I expected.

And while you can’t—shouldn’t—hurry growth and healing, I’ve learned a few ways you can support it. If you are also recovering from a hard time, please be gentle with yourself. Don’t berate yourself for not being “over it.” Spend a lot of time listening to your inner voice. At my saddest, I drowned out internal whispers with music, comfort TV, podcasts, audiobooks—anything to distract myself from the spiraling pain and longing which filled my thoughts. As I’ve felt stronger, I’ve begun to welcome quiet times of reflection and listening, often with journal in hand.

For me, resting has been crucial: going to bed early, taking naps when necessary. Carefully guarding energy levels, because when I’m exhausted, my thoughts take a darker turn.

Of course, reading books that touch on grief, healing, and navigating hard times has been helpful, as well as sharing thoughts (and many quotes and memes) with a trusted friend going through many of the same experiences. Reminders that I’m not alone.

I’m not declaring the growth and healing process done—I know better than that now. I expect bad days will continue as new grief milestones appear. I’m not rushing into any major changes, and I am allowing a slower pace of daily life while still fulfilling responsibilities to running my household and supporting my husband who has done so much to support me.