Steep Ascents Require More Switchbacks

Happy 2022! I’m a bit late, but this is my first post of the year. When we left off in 2021, I told you about Project Dandelion, which I’m happy to report is alive and well. But those fluffy white seeds rarely fly in a straight line, and this dandelion is no exception. I chose to take a break from writing to focus on staying in the flow and see where this sacred journey carried me. And it spiraled me in directions I couldn’t have anticipated. Maybe that was the whole point?

I’ve learned to laugh at the many switchbacks that fill my life path. Fun fact-a medium once told me that my journey was full of zig-zags. As an ex-hiker, I know those zig-zags are switchbacks and mean a steep ascent awaits. I no longer like climbing mountains, and the idea of a switchback-filled trail makes my palms sweat. Sometimes the Universe has a twisted sense of humor.

The Great American Road Trip

In a dizzying leap of faith, I zigged and sold my home last December so I could start the great American road trip. I planned to hop in my car and meet up with friends and long-lost family, visit beautiful places in my country for a change, and figure out where my next home base should be.

If you follow my Instagram, you already know the road trip didn’t happen. Selling my house and cutting my last tie to Boise took much more energy than I’d anticipated. And I honored my heart’s need to rest. I hibernated at a friend’s home for a few months while I processed all the hidden grief in leaving this town that was my whole life with D. This stealth grief landmine wasn’t explosive, just exhausting.

So, despite my best efforts, I was still “based” in Boise. I did manage to travel a little. I explored most of Tennessee and parts of South Carolina, getting a crash course in their real estate markets, politics, taxes, and weather. I also visited some wonderful friends from different eras of my life. It was exactly the adventure I needed. I fell in love with the Smoky Mountains, and visions of a little mountain cottage with a porch swing began to embed themselves in my heart.

<<Record Scratch>>

And then, right on cue, life zagged when I was happily zigging. I’d known for a while that Belfast Bestie’s husband was ill but didn’t learn how serious it had become until I was in Chattanooga, TN. (F**k cancer!)

I struggled with the decision on whether to travel internationally during a pandemic (the US was still mandating pre-departure COVID testing at this point). Still, every instinct told me I needed to go and go now. Long story short, I didn’t make it in time to say goodbye but was there when it counted. For her. For me. For both of us.

The Backstory

I first met Belfast Bestie and her hubs the year after D died. I’d ended up in Belfast by mistake, but they quickly became part of the foundation of the new life I was building. They held space for me to remember how to laugh, love, live, screw it all up, and then try again. And I did. Sometimes in tentative little steps, and others with complete abandon. We couldn’t have imagined we’d trade roles five years later.

As I looked deep into the surreal mirror her loss and grief created, I had no doubt our spirit guides brought us together in my early days in The AfterLoss because they knew we’d need each other. Not just then, but in all the years to come.

The Grief Spiral

I once described navigating grief as peeling the layers of an onion. But that wasn’t quite it. Grief is a spiral, swinging us back, with a different vantage point, to a griefy point of origin. And we repeatedly spiral so we can both continue to heal and honor how far we’ve come.

Belfast Bestie and I wept, laughed, and shared our deepest fears about this thing called widowhood. Each tear we shed sliced open old scars so I could finally heal them for good. Memories long buried were front and center again. I’d forgotten the intensity of the sadness and rage that once coursed through my veins until they roared back to the surface as I stared into the grief mirror of her broken heart. But, alongside the pain, love, hope, and forgiveness shone back at me with an intensity that made me smile. The woman I saw in that mirror wasn’t the broken, lost soul who arrived in Belfast five years ago. And I was finally able to release the buried things I didn’t even know I was carrying.

What’s Next?

So here I am, taking time to process and integrate all this new energy. I’m still camped out in Boise, at a friend’s house, with no idea where I’m going next. And that’s okay. Because once I think I have it figured out, it will be time to get zigging again.

My spirit guides remind me (repeatedly) that the steeper the ascent, the more switchbacks are necessary. I think they mean that to be reassuring and to have faith a home awaits me at the end of the trail. I dunno. It doesn’t feel so reassuring when I’m careening from zig to zag while living out of a suitcase. But I’m still here, leaning into the climb and holding on to faith. And that is what it’s all about.

XO,
Lisa
Live Now. Love Fierce. Dream Big.