Turns out we need to actively search for light. In the thick of it.
There was a time when I was pregnant with my son where a darkness washed over me. I wasn't myself, but I didn't know where my normal self had gone. It was like wearing sunglasses 24/7. I didn't see the everyday beauty around me. I didn't notice the brisk fall day with the leaves changing into bright colors.
It hit me worst when we were out. One evening we took our daughter, age 1 at the time, out for dinner. The hostess sat us next to a family of six. Four children; pre-teens and teens. The girls had shining, long blond hair flowing down their backs and the boys had clear skin and confidence. They looked like a page ripped from a magazine and I imagined they came from picture perfect home with soaring ceilings and a gleaming kitchen. The contempt I felt for that family just flowed out of me. It was so powerful that it felt like the air around me would turn into a black cloud. One glance at them and my eyes filled with tears, but I kept looking back, like a car accident you know you shouldn't be seeing.
The universe seemed to be mocking me. I felt like a solo line dodge player with The World on the other side of the line, pummeling balls at me. I remember the details of that restaurant as vividly as I remember the details of the pediatric cardiologist telling us that our son may not survive to term.
When our world changes like this, nothing is the same as it was. But the world goes on spinning around us despite it being confusing and bewildering. Eventually, the tint on my sunglasses lightened up a bit, but never went back to the way things were before.
Sharing my stories helps me adapt them into my life. And to gain much needed space. I believe this to be true for all of us. Listen to my own audio recording and consider whether this is something that might help you adapt too. I would love the chance to hear your story.