“Keep close what uplifts, especially
on days we can’t uplift ourselves.”
This is a lesson from a lived experience, not a universal prescription.
When the floor gave way.
As I surveyed the different entries saved to memory in my Keep app, I wasn’t blind to the possibility that one might think me self-absorbed.
As much as that might be true, it wasn’t one I would need to be responsible for.
In fact, have at it.
For I knew why these entries existed.
I had them timestamped, thematically titled, and named after their senders.
Thanks to my penchant for the meticulous, I was able to track down the entry that started it all.
The very reason for the others that came after.
Relationship ruptures have a funny way of keeping us buried in doubt,
pulled into a whirlpool of incessant questions and rewrites.
For the ones where we lose ourselves deeply, finding the light isn’t always easy,
especially with a broken compass in hand and waterworks that only blur the vision.
And I don’t know if I would have marched out of the tunnel as audacious as I did without the rally of an army.
The first entry marks that rally.
I had reached out to my brother with my most vulnerable, unashamed ask:
“I need reminders,” I told him.
“Loving reminders from those closest to me. Reminders of who I am. I know I am strong, but it’s not for the days when I can stand on my own two feet. It’s for the days when the floor has been ripped from right under me.”
And so he did.
The Commanding General made the rounds to siblings, relatives, and friends and returned with the most beautiful collection of letters, each holding memories and tales of a person I almost didn’t recognize.
Their words armed me with the conviction I needed to finally battle the doubt that kept me hostage.
That entry remains the only one at my request.
The rest were gifted.
From carefully crafted words that made me feel loved under the spotlight to voice notes that wrapped me ever so gently in a hug, I decided to preserve them.
They have now become a refuge for the days when life leaves me unsettled with doubt.
Perhaps, for the times when I, too, doubt myself.
Finding our way back.
Life is a teacher, often with a single lesson to share.
It doesn’t think itself a friend. It’s much too sage for that.
It knows that for the days when all notes fall in line for a beautiful symphony, we may marvel at its wonder with a heart of gratitude, or quite possibly none.
And it knows that for the days when the walls start to crumble and the floor gives way, it may be the place where we hurl all our hurt and blame.
So instead,
It doesn’t respond,
It doesn’t defend.
It keeps moving,
hoping that in time we too are able to do the same.
On days when life leaves us worn down and in question, we may find ways to help soothe the pain or numb it.
For some, it could be a walk in nature to help steady the mind.
For others, it could be a return to habits that leave them momentarily lifted, but soon have them crashing down.
One uplifts and supports, the other distorts.
And the only way to tell the difference is to observe who we become in the thick of it.
Knowing what makes us feel held and grounded cannot always be left to chance alone.
It asks that we be present enough in mind, body, and emotion as we move through life’s moments.
To notice:
The particular ways we love to receive love,
How certain words sit with us after they have been spoken,
The way the corners of our lips form a smile after a very specific moment,
Or what returns us to steady breath after the storm.
Meeting ourselves most honestly can open us up to permission: to name and honor our needs, allowing them to take their rightful place.
In doing so, an assuredness follows. Almost a bravado.
We know what makes us sing.
We know what makes us lift.
We know what to return to when the clouds start to grey.
Over time, we collect these knowings.
They become the pick-me-ups when life doesn’t cooperate.
We don’t tighten our grip on them. We remember them.
Whether it’s the “iced non-fat milk, three-pump brown sugar syrup, four-shot shaken espresso” that always has our mornings ready to fire on all cylinders,
Or the heartfelt message from a friend that reminds us of who we are in times when we fall blind to ourselves.
They are the compass that guides us back to ourselves until we are steady enough to walk the path again.
