Making Room for All of It (And Walking the Dog Anyway)

There’s something nobody quite prepares you for about this chapter of life:

How much joy and sadness can exist at exactly the same time.

A new grandbaby arrives, and you fall completely in love.

A son gets married. The family grows. There are celebrations and trips and dinners around crowded tables.

And at the very same time, a parent may be lingering with dementia, slowly becoming someone you recognize and don't recognize all at once.

Someone you love gets sick.

Your own body changes.

You find yourself grieving things that aren't completely gone yet.

It's a lot to hold.

And while you're standing in the kitchen contemplating the beautiful, heartbreaking impermanence of life...

the dog is whimpering because he would like a walk.

Now.

All Emotions Are Welcome Here

There's a temptation—especially in the wellness world—to tidy up the uncomfortable feelings.

Be positive.

Practice gratitude.

Find the silver lining.

We love gratitude. But sometimes things are just hard.

You can be wildly grateful for a new baby and heartbroken about your dad.

You can be excited about a wedding and exhausted from caregiving.

You can laugh at lunch with a friend and cry in the car on the way home.

None of those feelings cancels out another.

All emotions are welcome here.

Because if we spend all our energy trying to stuff the grief, anger, frustration and sadness, it's awfully hard to stay wide open to the joy, wonder, love and delight, too.

We want the whole thing.

Even when the whole thing is messy.

And Sometimes, You Walk the Dog

Here's the funny thing about life:

It keeps happening.

The dog still needs his walk.

The garden needs water.

Someone needs groceries.

The sun comes up.

Your Pilates class starts at 9:00 whether you're having an emotionally complex morning or not.

And maybe there's something surprisingly helpful about that.

Not because taking a walk magically fixes grief.

It doesn't.

But because sometimes you can bring the grief with you.

Put on your shoes. Grab the leash. Go outside.

Be sad and notice the sky.

Be angry and walk faster.

Cry behind your sunglasses.

Let the dog spend an unreasonable amount of time investigating one shrub.

Feel the sun on your face.

Say hello to the neighbor.

Keep going.

You're not bypassing what you feel.

You're simply letting those feelings come along for the walk.

Don't Miss the Good Stuff, Either

And when joy shows up, let that come along, too.

Hold the new baby and breathe in that impossibly sweet baby smell.

Dance at the wedding.

Watch the sunrise.

Make the painting.

Write the book.

Go to dinner.

Laugh too loudly.

Get in the lake.

Order dessert.

Being heartbroken about one thing doesn't mean you have to feel guilty about being delighted by another.

We are capable of holding both.

Maybe This Is What a Full Life Feels Like

I'm beginning to think the goal isn't to create a life without sadness.

Maybe it's to build a life big enough to hold all of it.

The births and the losses.

The beginnings and the endings.

The tears and the belly laughs.

The people we're welcoming and the people we're slowly saying goodbye to.

The extraordinary moments—and the completely ordinary Tuesday afternoons when you still have to figure out what's for dinner.

Maybe wellness isn't always about trying to feel better.

Sometimes it's about being willing to feel what is actually there while continuing to participate in your own life.

All emotions are welcome here.

Joy doesn't erase grief.

Grief doesn't disqualify joy.

And apparently neither one gets you out of walking the dog.

So grab the leash.

We're going outside.