I was just talking about this yesterday. Two years ago, I was going to a hot pilates bootcamp-style class four mornings a week, where I bounced out of bed at 5:20 AM and was at class by 5:50 - to a packed room with gyrating music. I loved it. I'd come home and feel like there was nothing I couldn't do. My abs, glutes, and arms were all getting tight. I stopped going when I hurt something (I was 69), tried to go back a couple of times, but never felt the same motivation. Then, 14 months ago, my brother died quickly from pancreatic cancer - a complete shock. He was my best friend, only 18 months older than me, and there has never been a moment when I've had a desire to exercise like that. Sometimes, it is all I can do to walk up the steps without feeling the weight of grief. I am starting to feel better, but still........that hot pilates class is right up the street, and I pass it every single day. Girls/women in their tights, holding their yoga mats, and getting ready to burn and sweat. I mourn that woman, but just for a little bit. I've not given up on exercise, but I do nothing in extremes anymore. I do an eight-minute arm routine two times a week, walk for 25 minutes four times a week, and do my 100 ab exercises four times a week. I don't break a sweat, and it is all I can do. I've let go of the hamster wheel of eating enough protein, macros of everything, fiber, or whatever the next trend is that makes us feel not enough, and to keep going and going and going. I even took my Apple watch off for a few weeks because I hated "tracking" - don't I know at 71 if I am walking enough???? I love the idea of quietly letting go or of what Kat Miller calls impermanence - and learning to make friends with impermanence. I absolutely love this concept. I can't go back to the woman I was at 69 because so much has happened in my life, the demarcation of before my brother died and the after. And, I am giving myself grace to acknowledge who she was then, and this is who she is now.
Grief of a beloved sibling is a heavy experience. My sister and best friend died 6 years ago and I am only now coming up for air and looking around with curious eyes. I'm glad you're not giving in to extremes and acknowledging the process. I think grief turns us inside out and there is a gift in that. Peace to you.
I am so sorry to hear this. I ended up writing a book about sibling loss and who my brother was to me and so many others, which I found very healing. I also published a journal to help others. And, still, like your sister and best friend, it is a loss with real gaps in the literature. I do feel, with the help of writing, that I am coming up for air now. But, boy, do our lives get turned upside down. My curiosity has led me to appreciate the microjoys and ordinary moments, and to sear them in my brain. My brother had just been home celebrating my 70th birthday, and I'd never seen him healthier. Two weeks later, he was given weeks to live and didn't even make two weeks. Now, all of those moments are never taken for granted. Thanks for your note.
Once grief comes into our lives, they are our loudest companion. They never leave, but they eventually get a little quieter. I’m so sorry for your loss, and everything else that has changed in your life. The death of a loved one comes with more losses than we realize. Take good care of you. 💜
Thanks, Sara. Yes....although I had experienced the death of my dad and other family members, this was such a devastating shock. I don't think that, as a society, we fully grasp not only how grief affects us mentally, but the way in which grief affects us on a cellular level. I do love your first line...."Once grief comes into our lives, they are our loudest companion".
Absolutely. While I quietly mourned the death of my grandparents, the unexpected suicide of my uncle wrecked me in a way that changed me as a person forever. There’s certain deaths that happen as the natural order of things, and we can expect and accept them to a degree, and others that tilt us on our axis, eternally corrupting the seasons of our lives.
Do I relate? Does this resonate with me? You bet. But with one exception: it has taken me to 80 years of age to feel this way. I must say I like it. I love doing what I want to do and not what I have to do. Yes, finally I am living what's left of my life in my own quiet way and not the way everyone else thinks I should. So you know what this? This is freedom! I say, embrace it. It's been a long time coming. Thanks for inspiring me. Perhaps there's another substack post that no-one reads still in me, and maybe not. Let me think about that a little longer.
And maybe those things we thought we desired were so socially constructed that now it feels authentic to not be ambitious, which opens space for the truths of the soul.
LOVE this - "And maybe those things we thought we desired were so socially constructed that now it feels authentic to not be ambitious, which opens space for the truths of the soul." Think about the younger women today who question whether they need Botox in their 20s. Mom's on a constant, "socially" acceptable way of mothering. Everyone's lives are being dictated by social media. I long for the days to be like my grandmother's, who simply showed up for her family, worked hard, wore no makeup, let her hair go white naturally, and lived her life without constantly wondering whether she was enough.
Thank you for your post, Monica. I am changing and your perspectives and attitude are helpful to me. The old ways and thinking have strong pulls and I struggle. You shine a bright light and bring me hope. 🧡
I feel better after reading this. I thought something was wrong with me as I lost interest in so many things. I've watched my husband do the same. Thank you for sharing this .
I'm feeling kind of conflicted.... uncomfortable.... with this post.... not sure why... maybe I AM feeling some of this but just haven't recognized and then faced it head on..... I don't know......
I once loved roller coasters, lively parties, and concerts. Now the thought of me partaking in any of those things is nearly appalling. I’m a little sad because I feel I said no to many of those things when I still had it in me, and now that woman is gone, but mostly I am at peace. It is nice to have a little quiet, rather than seeking an adrenaline rush to feel something. Thank you for sharing.
Looking back… I realize I never really liked roller coasters, packed concerts or parties, but that is what was expected to be considered a fun active social person …now I don’t have to pretend!
Hell yeah! What a joy to be honest and true to ourselves. If I’m being completely honest, I “loved” these things with the help of alcohol etc. Now, I love enjoying life as it is, in all its authenticity.
This really resonates with me (and not doubt many people), even though it doesn't always follow a linear chronology. Some of us will have more responsibility in our fifties and beyond, whilst caring for elderly parents. Some of us alternate between the responsible adult and the free-spirited child as we navigate the unpredictable backroads of life; we may never ride the highway because our lives are full of detours. It certainly is an interesting journey, this life.
Many detours, Geraldine. I am now my mom's caregiver. I'm 71 and she's 93. Many gifts in taking care of her, and I could look at it like it's narrowing my life, but it isn't really. I am learning more and more about myself in terms of compassion, empathy, and patience through this experience. It is all unpredictable and interesting, to say the least.
I love that you see the positive aspects of caring. It's the most important occupation. I promised my mother I'll be her carer if she needs me. At the moment I help her remain independent. It's taught me a lot, shown me how capable and adaptable I am, broadened my range of skills - and provided a lot of unexpected happiness.
I am doing that, too. Keeping her home and taking care of her as much as possible. It gives her agency and this is so important for this very independent and pioneering woman. I am broadening my skills, too. It can only help. I am taking a six month course called the Confident Caregiver Academy and am learning so much.
I was just talking about this yesterday. Two years ago, I was going to a hot pilates bootcamp-style class four mornings a week, where I bounced out of bed at 5:20 AM and was at class by 5:50 - to a packed room with gyrating music. I loved it. I'd come home and feel like there was nothing I couldn't do. My abs, glutes, and arms were all getting tight. I stopped going when I hurt something (I was 69), tried to go back a couple of times, but never felt the same motivation. Then, 14 months ago, my brother died quickly from pancreatic cancer - a complete shock. He was my best friend, only 18 months older than me, and there has never been a moment when I've had a desire to exercise like that. Sometimes, it is all I can do to walk up the steps without feeling the weight of grief. I am starting to feel better, but still........that hot pilates class is right up the street, and I pass it every single day. Girls/women in their tights, holding their yoga mats, and getting ready to burn and sweat. I mourn that woman, but just for a little bit. I've not given up on exercise, but I do nothing in extremes anymore. I do an eight-minute arm routine two times a week, walk for 25 minutes four times a week, and do my 100 ab exercises four times a week. I don't break a sweat, and it is all I can do. I've let go of the hamster wheel of eating enough protein, macros of everything, fiber, or whatever the next trend is that makes us feel not enough, and to keep going and going and going. I even took my Apple watch off for a few weeks because I hated "tracking" - don't I know at 71 if I am walking enough???? I love the idea of quietly letting go or of what Kat Miller calls impermanence - and learning to make friends with impermanence. I absolutely love this concept. I can't go back to the woman I was at 69 because so much has happened in my life, the demarcation of before my brother died and the after. And, I am giving myself grace to acknowledge who she was then, and this is who she is now.
Grief of a beloved sibling is a heavy experience. My sister and best friend died 6 years ago and I am only now coming up for air and looking around with curious eyes. I'm glad you're not giving in to extremes and acknowledging the process. I think grief turns us inside out and there is a gift in that. Peace to you.
I am so sorry to hear this. I ended up writing a book about sibling loss and who my brother was to me and so many others, which I found very healing. I also published a journal to help others. And, still, like your sister and best friend, it is a loss with real gaps in the literature. I do feel, with the help of writing, that I am coming up for air now. But, boy, do our lives get turned upside down. My curiosity has led me to appreciate the microjoys and ordinary moments, and to sear them in my brain. My brother had just been home celebrating my 70th birthday, and I'd never seen him healthier. Two weeks later, he was given weeks to live and didn't even make two weeks. Now, all of those moments are never taken for granted. Thanks for your note.
Thank you for sharing your experiences so honestly. 🧡
Thank you.
Once grief comes into our lives, they are our loudest companion. They never leave, but they eventually get a little quieter. I’m so sorry for your loss, and everything else that has changed in your life. The death of a loved one comes with more losses than we realize. Take good care of you. 💜
Thanks, Sara. Yes....although I had experienced the death of my dad and other family members, this was such a devastating shock. I don't think that, as a society, we fully grasp not only how grief affects us mentally, but the way in which grief affects us on a cellular level. I do love your first line...."Once grief comes into our lives, they are our loudest companion".
Absolutely. While I quietly mourned the death of my grandparents, the unexpected suicide of my uncle wrecked me in a way that changed me as a person forever. There’s certain deaths that happen as the natural order of things, and we can expect and accept them to a degree, and others that tilt us on our axis, eternally corrupting the seasons of our lives.
Do I relate? Does this resonate with me? You bet. But with one exception: it has taken me to 80 years of age to feel this way. I must say I like it. I love doing what I want to do and not what I have to do. Yes, finally I am living what's left of my life in my own quiet way and not the way everyone else thinks I should. So you know what this? This is freedom! I say, embrace it. It's been a long time coming. Thanks for inspiring me. Perhaps there's another substack post that no-one reads still in me, and maybe not. Let me think about that a little longer.
And maybe those things we thought we desired were so socially constructed that now it feels authentic to not be ambitious, which opens space for the truths of the soul.
LOVE this - "And maybe those things we thought we desired were so socially constructed that now it feels authentic to not be ambitious, which opens space for the truths of the soul." Think about the younger women today who question whether they need Botox in their 20s. Mom's on a constant, "socially" acceptable way of mothering. Everyone's lives are being dictated by social media. I long for the days to be like my grandmother's, who simply showed up for her family, worked hard, wore no makeup, let her hair go white naturally, and lived her life without constantly wondering whether she was enough.
Your words:
"Honor the one who came before.
She brought you this far.
And then turn around.
Because the one taking her place?
She’s just getting started."
Yes, yes YES.
I agree… those words are powerful!
Thank you for your post, Monica. I am changing and your perspectives and attitude are helpful to me. The old ways and thinking have strong pulls and I struggle. You shine a bright light and bring me hope. 🧡
I feel better after reading this. I thought something was wrong with me as I lost interest in so many things. I've watched my husband do the same. Thank you for sharing this .
Monica, So much of what you so graciously, truthfully, choose to share with us here describes who i am at 61.
I am a student of my own interior life.
Its a fascinating place to exist, isnt it?
I'm feeling kind of conflicted.... uncomfortable.... with this post.... not sure why... maybe I AM feeling some of this but just haven't recognized and then faced it head on..... I don't know......
I once loved roller coasters, lively parties, and concerts. Now the thought of me partaking in any of those things is nearly appalling. I’m a little sad because I feel I said no to many of those things when I still had it in me, and now that woman is gone, but mostly I am at peace. It is nice to have a little quiet, rather than seeking an adrenaline rush to feel something. Thank you for sharing.
Looking back… I realize I never really liked roller coasters, packed concerts or parties, but that is what was expected to be considered a fun active social person …now I don’t have to pretend!
What a relief.😅 ❤️
Hell yeah! What a joy to be honest and true to ourselves. If I’m being completely honest, I “loved” these things with the help of alcohol etc. Now, I love enjoying life as it is, in all its authenticity.
This really resonates with me (and not doubt many people), even though it doesn't always follow a linear chronology. Some of us will have more responsibility in our fifties and beyond, whilst caring for elderly parents. Some of us alternate between the responsible adult and the free-spirited child as we navigate the unpredictable backroads of life; we may never ride the highway because our lives are full of detours. It certainly is an interesting journey, this life.
Many detours, Geraldine. I am now my mom's caregiver. I'm 71 and she's 93. Many gifts in taking care of her, and I could look at it like it's narrowing my life, but it isn't really. I am learning more and more about myself in terms of compassion, empathy, and patience through this experience. It is all unpredictable and interesting, to say the least.
I love that you see the positive aspects of caring. It's the most important occupation. I promised my mother I'll be her carer if she needs me. At the moment I help her remain independent. It's taught me a lot, shown me how capable and adaptable I am, broadened my range of skills - and provided a lot of unexpected happiness.
I am doing that, too. Keeping her home and taking care of her as much as possible. It gives her agency and this is so important for this very independent and pioneering woman. I am broadening my skills, too. It can only help. I am taking a six month course called the Confident Caregiver Academy and am learning so much.