I have been shedding.
Like a tree losing its leaves, a snake shaking off its skin, a caterpillar cocooned before its new life begins, I am preparing for a new phase and a Jewish new year.
My shedding has taken place completely inside my head.
I am not dropping leaves. You wouldn't know it from my skin and I haven't been spinning a cocoon.
There are no visible clues.
My mind, however has been working furiously to get to this point.
You see, I had been comfortably attached to my roles as wife of the Head of School and as serial caregiver to my husband and sons for many, many years…….
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
When a friend is depressed, has a major life change or is grieving, it is very tempting to want to rescue them from their sadness, anxiety and pain.
To shake them out of it.
To make them laugh.
To make everything normal.
To help them climb out of their darkness and brush off their fears, regrets, anger and despair.
We want them to feel better and feel alive. We want them to be part of our world which is familiar, comfortable and safe to us.
We want to tell our friend it's all going to be ok.
They will get over it.
They will move on.
This pain won't feel this deep, this stabbing, this visceral forever.
And I'm sure if they could they would want to return to that normality too.
They would desperately want the difficult times to pass quickly so that they could join you in your revelry.
They don't want to feel this angst any more than you can bear to watch it.