Honestly: Loss, uncertainty, and doing the next good thing
Sometimes life throws you some really tough stuff.
And then it throws a little more on top, just to be a real jerk about it.
I consider myself very lucky to have gotten to my mid-thirties without having to face a ton of tough stuff in life. I mean I’ve had ups and downs, but nothing like what life has decided to throw in my face over the last 18 months like some crazed gorilla gleefully throwing its own poop.
Over the last 18 months or so, life has seen fit to pile one hard thing on top of another. Almost two years ago now, I quit my stable, safe, full-time job to jump into building a consulting/speaking/video-making business, which is just a *tad* stressful.
Then, my beloved dog Bingley was diagnosed with a very malignant form of cancer. Throughout much of year, I spent time taking him to and from nerve-wracking surgeries, radiation and chemo treatments, and seemingly endless follow-up vet appointments. I liken that time to a hellish rollercoaster — so many ups and and downs — the moment we felt a bit of joy at the thought that we’d gotten the cancer under control, we’d only be devastated when the vet found more cancer somewhere else.
Despite getting more time with him than we originally thought we would, Bingley took a turn and passed away in September of 2017, while I was away on choir tour in the pacific northwest. Thankfully, my husband was there, holding him in his arms when the vet put Bingley to sleep. It was the most painful loss I’d ever experienced up to that point, and I had to endure it away from home while trying to sing in performances every night.
But, it turned out, that was just the beginning of our year of grief. A few months later, while we were still grieving the loss of one beloved family member, Jason’s dad called. He had been diagnosed with ALS — Lou Gehrig’s disease.
I thought we’d been broadsided by bad news before. I was wrong.
What followed was an awful period of planning, re-planning, re-planning again, all while trying to remain positive and get every last second out of the time we had left, knowing that an awful loss was coming. Just because you can see the train wreck coming miles away doesn’t make it easier to bear when it arrives. In many ways, it actually makes it worse because while you wait, you envision every different way the carnage might unfold, but also know there is no way to not get caught in the wake of the destruction.
In May of 2018, we got the call Jason’s dad was having trouble breathing. The train wreck had arrived. He died within the week. I held my husband through his sobs, as he clutched his father’s hand, telling him we’d be okay, that it was okay to go, and that he was so grateful to have had him as his dad. That’s something I’ll never forget.
In the midst of all of this, after trying on and off to have a child over the last couple of years, my husband and I learned I have a condition that will most likely lead to a more complicated pregnancy if/when I get pregnant. It won’t make it impossible, but it adds an extra hurdle on an already fraught path toward becoming a mom — an identity I’ve always craved.
In short, the last 18 months have been filled with unrelenting uncertainty, stressful decisions, and loss. With all of this came intense bouts of depression and anxiety I’ve up until now never experienced before. It felt as though my family was shrinking all around me, and that expanding it in the way I’d always assumed we would was becoming more and more of a pipe dream.
And facing the fact that my life wasn’t turning out the way I’d expected has been an added, deeply personal grieving process too. Maybe when I look back someday, the path I didn’t expect will be just as good, or better, than the one I’d planned. But I simply don’t have the advantage of hindsight yet.
Making sense of your life comes from looking back on what has come before. But when you’re in the thick of it, trapped in the intractable uncertainty of the present, it rarely makes sense. It just, is.
But, I’m slowly learning that getting through something doesn’t mean getting “back to normal.” Because the finality of loss irrevocably shapes normal, and as much as we might long to, we can’t ever go backwards in life. Only, ever, onward.
And now, as I’m writing this, it’s September of 2018. And though my daily life has returned to something resembling a “normal” I recognize, I find myself still waiting warily in a haze of perpetual uncertainty for the next shoe to drop, and the buoyant optimism of my younger years feels laughably naive.
Let me be clear. I know I have it REALLY GOOD. I have supports. I have a husband, family and friends who love me. I have no major financial troubles. I have healthcare. I can afford counseling. I’m educated, privileged, can take time to cope and care for myself when I need to.
But this is STILL HARD. Because loss is supposed to be hard, no matter how well prepared you are to handle it.
I know I’ll get through this, and on to the next thing in time. And even though, right now, I’m far from sure what that next thing will be, I’m grateful for all the supports in my life that mean I can move forward.
And in the midst of all this hardship, there have been good, bright, and deeply meaningful spots too. Premiering an incredible piece of music in Washington D.C.; giving presentations on topics I care about to enthusiastic audiences; going to VidCon and nerding out about online video for a week; having long, meaningful talks with friends who just get it; laughing hysterically playing mini golf while wearing a dorky Santa hat; hiking in the Grand Tetons and unintentionally making friends with bears; staring out on calm lake water while I float gently, the sun warming my face.
All of those things happened too. They’re easy to forget when I feel mired in the muck, but they happened. There is strength in naming them, and in remembering them, especially when I’m at my lowest.
So what’s next?
I don’t really know, because let’s be real, none of us do. But I find enduring all of this has deepened my drive to create in a way that I haven’t felt in a long time, maybe ever. I want to take all that I’ve experienced and learned and share it in ways that might be helpful to others who are mired in their own version of life’s muck.
There were so many times over the last 18 months when I felt lost and alone, and without the words, experiences, recommendations, art, music, and creative expressions of others, I simply would not have gotten through. So, if I can share a semblance of something that might provide some comfort, or be useful for someone who is in the place I was 6–12 months ago, then maybe some good can come of all of this.
Life is, honestly, exceptionally complex. There are good times. And bad ones. And productive times. And silly ones. And life-giving times. And heartbreaking ones. I believe that connecting with, and sharing our experiences of that complexity is an essential part of the human experience, and brings us closer to understanding one another.
So I’m creating a series that will contain written, video, audio and visual pieces. It is an attempt to delve into some of these experiences of loss, grief, pain, uncertainty and all the moments of gratefulness and joy in between.
That doesn’t mean I’m going to make videos everyday, or share every thought that comes into my head on this blog, or stop creating educational videos on child psychology, or shift my entire business model. But I find the most compelling and resonant pieces of creative work are those that are curated with honesty.
So I’m calling the series “Honestly.” It will cover a variety of topics including, but not limited to: coping with grief and loss; complexities of working for yourself; power of family — blood and chosen; finding the right art at the right time; productivity, self-care, and balance even when it seems impossible; and learning to let go. You’ll also get to hear about how I run my business, what kinds of things I’m working on, what I’m learning, and things that might help you build your own freelance, side-hustle, or full time career.
In the spirit of that honesty: I don’t know what exactly this will look like, or how often things will come out at this point. I’m a self-proclaimed Type-A planner, so I generally like to be able to have measurable goals and action steps, but the reality is, I don’t know how this is going to go, or what it’s going to look like.
(Spoiler alert — even when it seems from the outside like people have it all together, sometimes they don’t. Honestly, this is one of those times for me.)
But if I’ve learned anything from doing creative work in the past, it’s that you can’t let the perfect get in the way of the good. Sometimes you just have to START and let the mess figure itself out along the way.
So you’re going to see some of the sausage get made here. It’s not always going to be pretty, or remotely close to perfect. As with my life in general right now, I’m kinda winging it a bit. Putting one foot in front of the other and trying to do the next tiny, good thing.
That said, I HAVE learned a few things about how to do things well on the internet over the last few years, so I do want to set up a few basics: To mirror the complexity of topics — and of the human experience — the series will (probably) come in multiple forms as well:
- Written posts — blog right here on Medium
- Videos — on my YouTube channel (like the one above)
- Podcast ?— I’m toying with the idea of short 10–20 minute podcasts on these topics…what do you think? Would you listen? Tell me in comments.
- Visuals — maybe on Instagram? I’m generally not great at the visual side of things, but maybe I’ll (finally) try my hand at Instagram? Would you like that? Tell me in comments.
The best place to stay up to date is by signing up for my email newsletter (click here to get signed up), but you can also find all the info on my website, or on Twitter (@DrLangworthy). I’m also working on putting together an email list where I’d announce new pieces every few weeks if that’s more your cup of tea. And if you want to support this series, first off, thank you! You can support this series by reading, listening, watching, and by sharing it with friends, leaving comments or writing reviews. You can also support the series over on Patreon (link is here.)
Patreon is a service that helps people support their favorite creators through monthly contributions that make the creative work possible. I’ve got a small but mighty crew over there already, but would love to see that community grow. There’s power in sharing our experiences and learning from each other, and I hope to create even a small space for that over there.
In short, there’s a variety of content coming your way. Fair warning that everything will be under construction for a bit as I get all of this up and running, but bear with me and we’ll get there eventually.
I’m not entirely sure where this will take me (and if I’ve learned anything over the last year, it’s how to be more accepting of uncertainty.)
Honestly, I’m just going to try to keep going and keep growing, and I hope you’ll join me for the ride.
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed the post or found it useful, please consider sharing it with others.
If you enjoy my creative work, and want to support the Honestly series as it grows, consider supporting me over on Patreon (https://www.patreon.com/DevelopmentalEnthusiast)
You can also find me on the inter webs on Twitter (@DrLangworthy) and YouTube (youtube.com/developmentalenthusiastchannel) or on my website (www.drlangworthy.com).
