breathe – personal breathing space

To put it plainly, 2020 was ROUGH.

If someone had asked me 365 days ago what 2020 would look like, I never would have predicted this. I never dreamed that I would live through a pandemic that would require physical distance in order to keep ourselves and our loved ones safe. I never dreamed I’d see memes of dogs demonstrating how to properly wear a face covering. It all just seems so bizarre, looking through the lens of early 2019.

COVID forced us to take a good, hard, look at ourselves, and our world. It challenged us to evaluate our lifestyles and navigate what has become our “new normal.” Despite the trauma, uncertainty, and despair of this year, I was incredibly blessed with so many lessons learned. If I were to write about ALL of the lessons 2020 taught me we’d be here for ages, but there were a few that were particularly impactful for me.

1. I learned not to take my job for granted.

I learned early on that life is unpredictable, so I’ve always tried to take nothing, especially people, for granted. Like many others this year, I experienced loss. However I can find comfort in knowing that I did my best to express my appreciation, adoration, and love for them whenever and however I could. But I failed to expand this practice beyond family and friends until this year.

If you’ve followed me from the beginning, you know that this blog was launched as a way to help me navigate life being laid off as a result of COVID.

I never thought I would be laid off. I worked hard and supported many departments, but in this case, it didn’t matter.

I found myself relying on federal aid, and it was terrifying. I had just closed on a house and my savings had dwindled. I hadn’t solidified my new budget, but I knew that federal aid wouldn’t be enough to cover my expenses. Questions about the unknown began to flood my brain: How does unemployment work? Have I missed the filing deadline? What if I can’t afford to make my mortgage payments or to heat my home? What can I do to bring in some extra income that doesn’t require leaving the house?

I took a good, hard look at my indefinite financial reality and quickly learned the importance of maintaining and sticking to a budget, understanding my debt, how and where I could make adjustments to keep my finances in check, and more. I found ways to cut costs (i.e. I could take 5 trips to the local dump for less than half of one week’s garbage pickup, wild right?!), and accepted the superficial sacrifices I would have to make.

Gratitude for my job was top-of-mind when I first started, but over time I became complacent and took it, and my steady income, for granted. Thankfully, my lay-off was temporary and I was asked to return just a few weeks later, but the experience was a rude awakening and impactful lesson, and I realized how lucky I was. Regardless, COVID changed my perspective, and my attitude, when it comes to steady employment and how I manage my finances.

2. I learned to take time.

Between being laid off and subsequently working from home, I’ve had so much time this year to reflect. I miss traveling, going to a restaurants, hugging friends, visiting family, not wearing a mask, and countless other things that, until now, I also had taken for granted. I’ll never look at that kind of personal freedom the same way again.

I also never dreamed that I would have SO much time to myself! I will confess, at first it was a bit like a dream. I had all this time and space to myself, and no real obligations anymore since appointments and plans were cancelled. At times it did get lonely though, and that loneliness just crushes your soul. Thank goodness for Erin.

I took this time to practice just being in the moment. I was able to recognize and appreciated tiny moments of peace, familiar sounds, subtle beauty, video chats, and Erin snuggles. I became so thankful for these little moments that I began searching for them each day.

I took time to rediscover things that made my soul happy, like reading, writing, and walking. I wrote about them in a blog.

I took time to practice self care. I was gentle with myself as I struggled through my COVID-induced depression. I took a free, non-credit course about happiness at Yale. I found Facebook groups and Instagram accounts with the sole purpose of empowering, motivating, and supporting other women. I took time to find pieces of me that had gotten loss amongst the chaos that COVID brought to the world. Most importantly though, I took time to breathe deeply, and love so much it hurt.

3. I learned that I can overcome fear.

I was scared a lot this year. I was afraid of getting sick, or that those I loved would get sick. I was scared that my new homeownership adventure would be too much for me to handle. I was scared that Erin and I wouldn’t be a good fit. I was scared to start my own business. I was scared that working remotely would hinder my job performance. I was scared I wouldn’t make it through Sam’s, then Gordon’s passing. I was scared of letting others down, and letting myself down. I was scared that my mental, physical, and emotional health would suffer. I was just plain SCARED. And that sucked.

I’m proud to say that I didn’t let fear overtake me, and I was able to accomplish several things during such a trying year:

I, and my family, are currently safe and healthy.
I love my little home.
Erin and I are a PERFECT match.
I started a blog to explore my joy of writing.
I started my own business; I’m now an Independent Consultant for a Direct Sales company and I LOVE it.
I navigated telecommuting and managing a team virtually, and feel more productive than ever.
I’m not letting myself, or anyone else down as long as I’m doing the best I can.

Don’t get me wrong, some things still scare the living daylight out of me. Some things will just take longer for me to work through, and that’s okay; 2021 is another year to tackle them.

4. I learned to let things go.

It’s taken me some time to embrace this one since I’ve always considered myself as a bit of a pack-rat. I’ve had this mentality that, “if there isn’t anything wrong with it, there’s no reason to get rid of it,” or “if so-and-so found out I didn’t keep this, they would be so disappointed.” I’ve begun asking myself, what good does that thinking do? What good comes out of hanging onto things, or even people, that no longer make you happy or help you grow? Why keep anything that causes you pain, discomfort, or stress every time you see it? Cluttered house. Cluttered mind. Cluttered house.

I needed a mindset shift: If it no longer served me, it was time to bless and release it from my life.

It was easy to start clearing out clothing that didn’t fit and objects I hadn’t touched in years, but items with an emotional element were more challenging. After much practice, I learned that any item that sparks a negative reaction, even if it once brought me joy or tugged at a happy memory, is something I no longer need in my life (thank you Marie Kondo and minimalist concepts). Since I started letting more go, I’m finding myself generally lighter, more at ease, and happier. See ya, negativity!

5. I learned to trust that I am right where I should be.

I know I’ve said this before, but I’m saying it again: I trust that the universe is there to guide me to exactly where I should be. From opting to travel abroad in 2019 instead of 2020, to adopting Erin right before COVID hit hard (and shelters closed to the public), things seemed to align at just the right time this year, which makes me hopeful for what’s to come in 2021.

This year was hard; I would be lying if I said I wasn’t happy to see it go. So, here’s to a new year of growth, learning, and adventuring. Cheers!

If I had known how little time I still had with my handsome boy, I wonder if my post would have been written differently.

For the last couple years, Gordon has indulged in a warm, sloppy, mushy, mixture of soaked senior equine feed, alfalfa/timothy pellets, and bran twice a day. He could hear me coming before he could see me, and would whinny in impatience as I walked down the barn to deliver his meal. But that morning was different.

As I walked into the barn on June 8, I didn’t hear his familiar voice and I couldn’t see his head searching for me down the aisle way. It was a beautiful day, so I assumed he was still out in the pasture enjoying the sunshine.

But as I came closer, I saw Gordon’s body, lying completely still on the barn floor. My stomach sank and fear started to take over. I dropped the bucket with Gordon’s breakfast and ran, panicking as I called his name over and over with no response. I tore open the gate and with a single, startled movement he stood up and looked at me, confused. I placed my hand over my mouth and let tears stream down my face. I thought I had lost him. Relieved, I went over to snuggle with him for just a moment. But before I got to him he went back down. Something was wrong.

My veterinarian was out of town, so I hastily called several others in the area to see who I could get ahold of first. The first one I heard back from was a veterinarian who had helped me in several colic emergencies when I first brought Gordon home all those years ago. He was on his way. I had also called my mom, telling her that Gordon was down and the vet had been called. She left work to be with me, and it meant everything.

I stayed with him until the vet came. Gordon could barely stand and when he tried, he’d lay right back down. His eyes were hazy and he acted so confused. It was as if he didn’t know where he was. He wanted to eat but it was like he didn’t know how. He didn’t even give my mother a hard time, which he got particular enjoyment in doing. He seemed to still recognize me though – whenever I moved, he’d follow me with his tired eyes. My heart felt so full, but so broken because deep down I knew that I would be asked to say goodbye to half of my heart.

It was determined that my sweet boy had suffered from a neurological event, likely a stroke. There was nothing that could be done for him.

I knew what had to be done, but it didn’t make it any easier.

We laid Gordon to rest that morning, and buried him under a shady tree near the barn.

I don’t remember much about the rest of that day, or the days that followed. I remember feeling exhausted, lost, and empty. I remember trying to eat a granola bar in the front seat of my car, not knowing if I would be able to keep it down. I remember walking across the lawn to my parents house after burying him and needing my mother’s help to get there. I remember immeasurable sadness, knowing that I would never see him, hear him, or touch him again. I remember feeling so much pain, as if my heart, my soul, was actually breaking. I remember so many tears, tissues, and tight chests and headaches from crying so hard. I remember how beautiful that day was, and that he couldn’t have chosen a better one to leave this world, even though I begged him not to.

In situations like this, it can be so hard to know if you did the “right thing.” A horse that cannot stand, is a horse that cannot live. I am blessed because I know I made the right decision, and I will never take that for granted. I will never take the lessons Gordon taught me for granted. I will never take my family for granted.

I haven’t posted in months; it’s taken me as long to begin to function and process this new life without Gordon. It’s taken me months to even think about writing this post, let alone sit down and actually let the words flow through my fingers. I needed time to grieve, to think, to breathe, to move forward. Because I’ll never move on.

I want to give a special thanks to Chris Parfitt of Tassel Hill Veterinary Clinic for being so kind and taking such wonderful care of Gordon (and me) during his final hours. To my mother who is always there to support me emotionally, physically, mentally, and beyond. To my dad, uncle, and cousin who took such gentle care burying him and offering soft words of condolence. To the numerous friends and family members that understood how special our relationship was, and reached out offering their sentiments and support, while also giving me space to grieve. To my friend ReBecca, for the impromptu photo shoot a year or two ago that gave me beautiful & treasured photos that captured the essence of each of us. And, as silly as it sounds, to my pup Erin, for letting me cry without judgement and snuggle without fuss when I needed it.

I was very blessed to have loved Gordon for as long as I did. My heart still aches, the tears still come, but it’s gets a little easier as time goes by. I will continue to miss him for the rest of my life, but I am so lucky that I was given something so special to miss.

Tag: breathe

Five things I learned in 2020