I'm doing surprisingly well . . .

 People ask me how I'm doing. Or they say they won't ask how I'm doing, because how would I be doing? Or they ask how I'm holding up.  In short, they offer me space to share what I wish about my current reality, generally with a great deal of generosity and compassion.  

I don't tell them I'm fine, or I'm OK.  I prefer to tell them the truth, which for the last couple of weeks has been this: I'm doing surprisingly well . . . except when I'm not. 

It seems important to write about the surprisingly well because I'm mostly inclined to write when I'm not. I write when emotions are high, when intensity and passion give me something to say. High emotion, intense grief, passionate memories - these are part of my everyday now in a way they've never been before, but they don't account for most of my minutes.  Most minutes I'm doing surprisingly well. 

Surprisingly well isn't me at my best. Sometimes it doesn't even feel like me, but it is me. Most minutes I'm happy to talk with friends and clients. More often than not I can respond to an email, write a grocery list, teach a class.  It's also true that I hit send before I should, forget to add eggs, and struggle to mirror. I'm experiencing life with less intelligence and presence than I'm used to and gaining empathy for others who struggle.  

I am putting one foot in front of the other and I wear out in fewer steps. On a sunny afternoon when Jamie and I might have gone for a hike to enjoy this glorious spring, we curled up on a blanket on the beach instead. 

I'm making it through because I am incredibly well supported.  I'm giving myself permission to be less right now, to do less, to say less, to move less. The people around me, my family, my clients, my friends, are all encouraging less. Grief is making space for others to do things for me that I would normally have done for myself. I'm learning to receive more deeply than I ever have before. I'm soaking up the kind words of so many, including those that continue to come in through various channels even as the weeks go by and the crisis is less fresh. 

And I'm laughing along with the crying. I'm smiling in the sun. I'm planning an April wedding and so incredibly grateful for the beauty that continues in my life alongside the grief. 

I'm doing surprisingly well . . . except when I'm not.