April mornings are still dark enough that I’m not ready to spring out of bed like an eager bunny. I still snuggled into my covers even though I’ve been awake for awhile. I have to work my way out in my head first. First I have to throw off the warmth of the silk quilt and let the cool air rouse me out of bed. Then the rest is history as they say.
I haven’t been keen on going to the gym the last couple of weeks either. I tell myself that it is ok. I’m resting and healing. I do enough. I move enough. I’m resetting, turning myself off to save energy. I am very careful now where my energy goes. I don’t want to lose any needlessly. There’s been many losses this year. I don’t want to cry crocodile tears. In fact, I haven’t cried at all with losing my mother in October. It seemed so strange to lose her after all these years. Then shortly after, I lost my hearing – all of it for awhile. I hadn’t cried then either.
Everything was strange, bizarre and traumatic. It left me no energy to mourn the passing of my mother. It left me no energy to be angry, sad or depressed. I prayed and asked for many prayers. After these many months, I have gained much of my hearing back. I am filled with gratitude and awe. It has been such a life changing year. So much loss and yet so much gain at the same time. I’m grateful for these grey April mornings, too. They’re restful. I don’t have to be an EverReady bunny, going on and on.
onethousandandtwo 
Lily, you take all the time you need and take one day at a time! 🤗
Thank you, Tamara.
It’s ALWAYS a good idea to take care of yourself.
Oh, and your prose is beautiful. Keep writing!
Thank you, Kandas.
Lily, as a grief coach, I can tell you that grief comes in waves. Some days the waves dribble in, if at all. Other days grief becomes a tsunami. It crashes down on you. You feel as if you can’t breathe any more. But, you’ll be fine. You CAN do this. Most of all, don’t forget the things you used to do. You mentioned the gym. Try to go back. Even if it’s just for a short time. Or set up a routine at home. If you let one thing go, then you’ll let something else go. But, remember, you will heal one step at a time.
Thank you for your good advice, Eydie. I have felt the breathlessness and the importance of a routine. I plan on going back to the gym on Monday.
good job!
I love how you describe being intentional with your energy—protecting it, redirecting it where it’s truly needed. That’s such an important reminder. Rest isn’t the absence of doing, but a necessary part of healing and growth. Wishing you continued peace in these grey April mornings. 💛
Thank you, Hanna.
It sounds like you’ve been through a lot. It’s OK to take the time you need for yourself and for your healing.
Thank you, Barbara.
I can relate to your post. I’m trying but it’s hard to heal without energy. Sending hugs.
I get you, Martha. Hugs to you, too.