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Archive for March, 2020

theLightWhen I decided to write about my life, I truly thought it would be easy. Only it wasn’t. How could it be? The beatings, the screaming, and the fear permeated my earliest years. And yet my entire life has not been dark. In fact, it has been far from dark. But the dark moments seemed to have overshadowed the many gifts. And writing about my childhood plunged me into the darkness leaving me (for a little while) sad to the core.  The pain cut deep and left me treading water instead of being the thriver that I am.

My response to writing about my childhood was to dive deep into an underwater cave that was literally swallowing me up until I realized what was happening. With each passing day, I found myself going further and further underwater until I couldn’t find an air pocket to catch my breath. For over a month, I stopped writing my book and connecting with others more than I had to for my work.

Looking back I see that I had temporarily lost my voice. My voice had become too overwhelming for even me to bare witness. So I stopped talking. I stopped writing. And metaphorically, I was unable to release even the smallest whisper. And during this time, I also physically lost my voice. I am sure this is no coincidence.

As time moved forward, I found a little inner strength. Swimming further into the cave, I was finding the space to renegotiate what I needed to fuel my spirit. While I was still dark, I was learning to breathe a little more deeply and I was becoming more of the person I was meant to be. I was just starting to find a stronger voice from within.

As my voice returned, I saw it as a sign that I needed to do more than speak, I needed to find a way back to writing, “Living Out Loud: A Thriver’s Journey”.  I needed to get back to the holy work of writing my story.

 

My story isn’t easy. In fact, what I am learning about myself is that I am not brave; I am terrified of losing my footing and slipping into quicksand. I often crumble, but I am learning to trust that even when I crumble leaving only cracks behind, light has a way of reaching my soul and on a good day, I illuminate the world with some of my light.

Each year that I remain on this earth, I learn to see myself as a little more beautiful than I ever thought possible. I know how to show up in the world and to add sparks whenever possible.  I ride the waves as I fiercely grasp for life’s many nuggets. And with each breath I take I always try to do the next right thing. In fact that is the only thing I can do on a daily basis.

One of my strongest attributes is that I am resilient. Regardless of what I have had to endure in the past or will have to navigate in the future, I always find the inner strength to show up at the table – again and again. And on I good day, I am able to radiate light as I thrive. That’s my job!

Hineini, Here I am!

Onward with love, light, & blessings,
Chava

PS: Thanks for reading what will likely be part of my memoir which at this point is being called, Living Out Loud: A Thriver’s Journey. If you like what you are reading, please take a moment and like it on WordPress or any social media site, AND if you have feedback, I’d love to hear it.

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Aryeh in the ER 3.8.2020

Aryeh humored me and kept drinking lots of water and doing breathing exercises in the ER as we waited over four hours to be seen.

I am exhausted. Beyond exhausted actually.

Yesterday was a hard day. It started hard because I was craving time alone and simply couldn’t find it. It was hard because I wanted to clean my creativity cave (creative space), but didn’t have the energy to do so. It was hard because I couldn’t ground myself which means that I just didn’t have what it takes to be productive in the ways that I wanted to be.  AND  in the end none of this mattered at all because Aryeh got sick and for a few hours, my world felt like it was suffocating me.

A bad headache ended up causing his blood pressure to rise pretty high which lead the nurse practitioner at CVS’s MinuteClinic to send Aryeh to the ER. It didn’t matter that that logically I believed that he would be fine or that I figured whatever was wrong would ultimately lead him to a better place. It didn’t matter that I put a smile on my face when navigating the hospital or that I didn’t go into panic when I shared what was happening on Facebook.  Inside was a different story. Inside my heart was breaking because I will never forget the years that Aryeh struggled for his health.  As a teenager, he was plagued with a 6.5 centimeter arachnoid cyst wrapped around his brain. Two brain surgeries and years of excruciating pain plagued my son’s teenage years. And as I learned last night, those memories are never really too far from the surface.

While I outwardly, gathered the supplies I needed to take to the hospital, called and texted Aryeh’s dad as well as a couple of friends to let them know what was going on, and took Aryeh to the ER at Memorial Hermann Hospital, inside my entire spirit was crumbling. It didn’t matter that I really believed he would be ok. . . it didn’t matter at all. Because logic doesn’t shut down the memories that came flooding back. I used to be petrified of taking Aryeh to the hospital because I didn’t know if he would be able to return home with us. Or if he did return home, what his condition would be. For two years, Aryeh’s life was a question mark. Would he survive his hell? AND if he did survive his hell, how would he navigate life? Fortunately, he did so much more than survive. Aryeh struggled with health crisis after health crisis for three and a half years and then he moved forward to become the thriver that he is today.

Thirteen years have passed since Aryeh first went through his health crisis. But waiting in the ER for over four hours yesterday reminded me how profoundly fragile life can be.  The good news is that my intuition was spot on and it looks like Aryeh will be emerge from yesterday a healthier man.

Gratitude abounds and now it is my work to quiet the anxiety and deep seeded pain that is bubbling up post our visit to the ER.

Logic doesn’t always make a sense, sometimes emotions, memories, and anxiety get in the way. The good news is that hard moments don’t have to last forever.

Moving forward – always . . .

Onward with love, light, & blessings,
Chava

PS: Thanks for reading what will likely be part of my memoir which at this point is being called, Living Out Loud: A Thriver’s Journey. If you like what you are reading, please take a moment and like it on WordPress or any social media site, AND if you have feedback, I’d love to hear it.

 

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