Grief and all its Contours
Hello!
First, thanks for reading!
Usually, I would apologize and make excuses why I missed sending out June’s newsletter. But I’m learning to embrace and thank instead of apologize and make excuses.
June didn’t happen, that’s it. Thanks for understanding!
What did happen in June was a group of gracious, incredible, ADHD women, kindly showed up for 6 weeks to share stories of muddling through life with ADHD. We laughed, we cried, and hopefully we each came away with a little more compassion for ourselves, a few more tools to navigate the choppy waters, and a handful of women to call friends.
Grief came up often in this group and took up residence in my heart.
What came out from all that tumbling around was this poem; that I am grateful and slightly terrified to share with you here.
There’s a particular grief
There’s a particular grief,
when the dream dies, the one
you’ve trained for and prepared for
and are capable of and you realize,
it will never be.
When the house is empty or
the womb is empty or your
heart is so full of love and there is
no one to catch the overflow.
There’s a particular grief
when the diagnosis comes and
the life you have takes on an
entirely new shape.
When the one who holds your
heart does not treat it as the
precious gift that it is.
The grief perches on your shoulder
or on your chest
until you find
the complementary joy of
gently picking it up
turning it over
gazing at its contours
and slipping it into your pocket.
With Love,
Danica
What I’ve been Reading/Watching/Listening to:
Two, off-topic, reads that have supported my personal on-going work of exploring the inner life.
How About Now by Kate Baer. A collection of poetry that will crack your heart wide open and you will feel seen (if you’re a middle age woman that is).
My spiritual side has called for some tending so “The Cloud of Unknowing” by Anonymous, has been nurturing that. It’s a guide to the contemplative life by a 14th century mystic. Remarkably accessible!
