Resilience

Resilience: it's been on my mind a lot lately. And to what did my wondering eyes appear in Allure this month? My favorite publication? An article on this very topic. Resilience: the ability of humans not merely to survive trauma and stress, but to bounce back and be happy and productive.  Apparently, they have figured out that it's not a question of how bad an experience was, but rather how equipped you are-biologically and psychologically-to cope with it. Whether or not you have the ability to fight back, or give in during stressful times.

Apparently those that have the ability to overcome awfulness possess two things 1.) strong human connections and 2.) the knowledge or belief that sometimes, shit happens and it's no body's fault.  This "knowledge" can be expressed through faith/belief in a higher power, or an intellectual and emotional letting go. In other words, it is what it is.

Of course, the article says, when something awful happens, we all need time to grieve. And I know that this is true. At the end of the day, it hits me the most when I put my Lauren to bed. When I lay her down on her changing pad, I stare at a colorless white wall. I literally shut my eyes and see her old nursery. I want to go back there so badly. I shut my eyes and see her bubble gum pink walls, and look up at the shelf that I painted. On the shelf I see her memory box that I made myself, the edges etched with rick rack and sequins sprinkled over strawberry shortcake's happy face. I stare at my grandmother's picture, the one of her with my sister and I when we were so young at my great grandmother's house. I see the picture of my mother and I at Rocky Ford. I turn around and see the hat from her first birthday party and the ballerina topper from her cake. I see the curtains on her closet that I hand decorated with darling Martha Stewart decals.  I see my great aunt's chair, that we read books together in every single night. And I realize, I can never go back to that place again. It is gone, and it literally breaks my heart.

And I know at this point, that this is the letting go point. Grieve, and let it go. I have to let it go, and move on. The hardest thing about a fire like ours is that on one hand, you feel so happy and thankful that no one was hurt. Giddy and relieved and overwhelmed with gratitude. But on the other hand, every single day there is another revelation or memory of something you just remember that you lost. Something you hadn't remembered before. And you grieve every single day about the things you carried with you all of your life, that are gone. And also the things that you have for your children. Her baby book, her baby dresses, her coming home outfit. It is all gone, never to be replaced.

At the lowest moments, I tell myself these things: I don't have the baby book, but I have the baby. I don't have the pictures of my grandmother, but I have my memories and her spirit around me, always. I don't have the bibles from my youth, with my scribbled favorite bible verses from summer camp, but I have the scriptures in my mind and my heart: I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. God would not ever give me anything that I can't handle. I may not have all of my and Lauren's Christmas ornaments, but I have her and the rest of my family to celebrate Christmas with.

I know that God has a plan for my life. I know that he had it before I was born. I know it will sound literally insane, but I am thankful for what this tragedy has brought into my life. There will come a point in my life where I will understand why this happened. There will be a light bulb moment, where I utilize the strength I have gained from going through this experience. I already feel it. The only thing I can compare it to was when I became a mother. I got it: parents, coworkers, family, friends I could never relate to before, I got them, it, the love you have for a child. It changes you forever. And this tragedy has now changed me forever as well. I can see things I never saw or felt before: compassion on another level. Gratitude for my community and friends and family, elevated to the 10th degree. And I am thankful.

The article said it best: "Certainly, those who are the most resilient, who've been through the worst and come out smiling, agree: Failure and loss, while not to be celebrated, are to be accepted, even embraced.  This doesn't mean that problems aren't deeply felt and remembered. But those who are resilient do not let their traumas define them. 'I'm 99% a happy and joyous person. I love the same stupid things I loved before, I laugh at the same jokes...but now there's a different dimension to it all. Do I wish I'd [been through this?] Of course not. But who I am now exceeds who I was before.'"

♥ V :)