For the One Who’s Holding Her Breath
She was talking about the writing life, but I think Anne Lamott’s words in Bird by Bird are true for all of life. She wrote, “You can’t fill up when you’re holding your breath.”
Are you holding your breath right now? I mean proverbially, yes, but even physically?
So many of us are holding our breath, afraid of letting go because we’re not sure we can handle the tears or anger or overwhelm attempting to pour out from our bodies. We hold our breath because we’re bracing for what’s next, waiting for the other shoe to drop. We hold our breath because, ironically, sometimes keeping it all inside feels like the only way to make it through another day.
“You can’t fill up when you’re holding your breath.”
Tragedies continue to strike communities around our country and around the world. So many people are grieving. Maybe you are grieving. And yet the world keeps spinning. We still need to cook dinner and the laundry still needs to get put away and work deadlines still need to be met and our own lives are still full of all that’s good and hard and beautiful and challenging.
It’s a lot to carry, isn’t it?
I’m reading Aundi Kolber’s new book Strong Like Water right now, and I’ve just about highlighted every paragraph already. But one sentence really struck me. She wrote, “Dear ones, we don’t have to pretend that simply existing doesn’t hurt sometimes. It does and it has.”
I don’t know what you’re carrying right now. I don’t know what you’re trying to hold inside your body or if you have tears you’re desperately blinking back into your eyes. Maybe you’re not wrestling with profound sorrow or trauma, but you feel like you're living life with a thousand paper cuts. Maybe you’re simply sleep deprived, and that throws everything out of whack. I get that. I really do.
But whatever your circumstances, if you feel like it’s hard being a person right now, I want to put my hands on your shoulders and look you in the eyes and remind you of two things:
1) it’s okay to feel this way and
2) you are not alone.
I know you may not want to weep in front of your family, but it’s okay to cry in the shower. It’s also okay to laugh with your kids and hold them tight while also allowing your heart to break for the mamas who wish they could do the same. I know you still need to get work done, but it’s okay to let yourself pause long enough to recognize that the life you’re living–even if it feels mundane–is still not easy.
Aundi also wrote, “We do not want to make our home inside grief, but let us be clear: Unless we make room for the reality of our entire human experience, grief will insist on taking over the whole house.”
We don’t want to wallow in heartache, but if we don’t acknowledge it, we’ll never move through it. If we don’t exhale, releasing our breath–and our tears and overwhelm with it–we’ll never be able to fill up again.
So to that end, I offer you one last reminder: breathe.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Take care of yourself today–and every day. And know that you are deeply, deeply loved.
A version of this post was originally shared in the Coffee + Crumbs newsletter.
