on joy and grief

I had a plan. At least a loose idea of one.

Occasionally I’ve found myself mentioning to Joe that I miss writing. That I miss photography. That I miss engaging in my old once-comfortable online spaces.

At the same time, I feel like I’ve lost my spark. It’s been years since I’ve readily found words that feel worthy of sharing. My creativity well seems to have dried up.

Like an atrophied muscle, I knew it would require time, patience, and some fumbled attempts to start regaining what I’d lost. So I concocted a plan. A plan that was as much procrastination as it was a strategy.

I’d wait till February and then start dipping my toes back in.

Our first wedding anniversary seemed like a fitting time to finally share about my amazing husband and our incredible family. I would post pictures and muster up words that I already knew would be inadequate, but would nonetheless be my humble attempt to capture the essence of the Pelzinos.

February. That was my plan. Maybe by then I’d be able to summon the words as well as the courage to start writing again.

But then the unthinkable happened.

And the immense highs of this year were eclipsed by the unimaginable.

February 2023. I married the love of my life on an empty beach in Costa Rica. Joe and his three children had come into my life in the most unexpected of ways and times. My new family — imperfectly perfect — are worth every bit of struggle and the years of waiting…

August 2023. Adopting our youngest came together so quickly and sweetly. Eli and I already had such a beautiful and strong relationship — the legalities were certainly not what created or even fortified that. But they demonstrated it loudly and magnificently.

October 2023. Life stopped and our world was shattered when our 21 year old son, Logan, passed away in an accident. The grief swallowed our family like a rogue wave, and we are still working on regaining our footing. This holiday season has been painfully hard — all the firsts are, really — and I’m grateful for the life preservers we have to cling to. Friends and family have shown up for us in significant ways, carrying us when we haven’t felt able to hold ourselves up. And therapy is keeping our heads above water as we try our damndest to move through this incomprehensible loss in the healthiest way possible.

I wrestle with how to hold space for the bests and the worsts of our lives occurring in a short nine-month span. The juxtaposition of joy and grief — and giving ourselves permission to feel both, oftentimes simultaneously — is more challenging than words could possibly convey.

But this year can’t end without me finding and using some words. So here they are.

Logan, you are loved. You are missed. And nothing is the same without you here.

choosing gratitude

The past few weeks have been a blur. An unanticipated surgery led to an antibiotic-resistant infection that bulldozed me in every way. As I came out of the fog of illness and sedatives, a new fog settled in. One of disappointment and frustration and anxiety and heartsoreness. This was not how my year was supposed to end. This was not how my life was supposed to look.

And yet... In the stillness, I also feel overwhelming gratitude to have come out the other side. I am thankful for those who showed up in much-needed physical, practical, and heart-strengthening ways. I am thankful for all the good — the unbelievable amounts of good — in my life.

So while I start this new year — this new decade — with more fatigue and less strength than I would like, I’m choosing to focus on what I have and who I am more than what I lack and who I’m not . Discontent comes more naturally to me than thankfulness does, so I’m going to more intentionally lean into gratitude in the year ahead.

Okay, 2020. Ready or not, here you are. I see you with all your still-unknown mountains and valleys. And I raise you, with gratitude.

※ ※ ※

Do you have a word you’re choosing to focus on in 2020? I’d love to hear how it found you. 

And if you haven’t already joined the One Word 365 community, please do!

muscle memory

2019 didn’t go as I’d planned or hoped. I’m fairly certain I feel that way about every year though, so I suppose that says more about me than about the previous 365 days.

EMBRACE.

That was my challenge and my gift this year. Looking back, I see ways that I embraced the pain and the joy, the impossible hardships and the beautiful victories, the moments I’d craved as well as those I wish I could have avoided. I embraced the grief of what isn’t while also embracing the beauty of what is. I embraced the seven-layer-dip of my emotions as I continue to learn to face, feel, and release each one as it comes.

EMBRACE.

As always, I haven’t arrived at a finish line but I developed some “muscle memory” and will be taking this word — this focus — with me even as a new year begins.

And tonight, as we close the chapter on this year and this decade, I will shut my eyes tight, let out a deep sigh, and give myself permission to start fresh.

right here in the waiting

“There is a life to be lived
right here in the waiting.”

— Morgan Harper Nichols

My One Word 365 journey with the word embrace has been a challenging one. Like a rock in my shoe, it‘s remained an ever-present discomfort — one I wish at times I could shake myself free from. But there it remains. Pestering me to find contentment in my discontent. Gently reminding me there is much good in my now, even when my now doesn’t match the one I’d envisioned for myself. Whispering to me, “Don’t forget to breathe.” Inspiring me to lean into finding and strengthening the healthiest version of myself.

Embrace.

It’s led me to quiet resolve, to inner strength, to vulnerable release, to much-needed solitude, to joy and heartache and everything in between. It’s led me to simply feel. To simply be. To simply hold space for my own self.

And once again I am reminded that regardless of the distance between now and not-yet, “there is a life to be lived right here in the waiting.” And I shake my head at the gentle annoyance of that rock in my shoe. Oh, Embrace... You’re not quite done with me yet...

embrace

My intention this year is to embrace more. Embrace my life. Myself. My decisions, passions, needs. The moment. The one who's right in front of me. My feelings (including the light ones). My hopes (as well as my fears).

So I’ve been thinking a lot about what it really means to embrace these things. And—as I’ve realized is a bit of a pattern with me—I’m mostly thinking about what it doesn’t mean.

‘Embrace’ is not always synonymous with ‘accept’. Sometimes it means making room for something else. Releasing. Letting go.

Embracing that which makes me discontent is to acknowledge it. Look it in the eye. Call it by name. Wrestle with it. And determine which needs to change: its presence or my perspective on it.

My aim is to find more contentment in my discontent. To embrace even that which is uncomfortable. And to more honestly and courageously call things by their actual name.