What are you capable of?
This answer probably varies depending on the day, the time, or how much sleep (and coffee) you’ve had.
Are these capabilities defined by you, or are they defined by others?
I’m aware of the pressure I put on myself, but most of the time I ignore it. Lately, I’ve been questioning whether or not it has to do with being a bereaved parent. Do I hold myself to a higher standard because I’ve had a loss? Am I trying to overcompensate because of the tiny bit of guilt and responsibility for my son’s death that I’m still wrestling with?
I’ve got a lot of pride (probably most of it is stubborn), but at least I can admit it (sometimes). This week I swallowed some of it and realized that I don’t have to be capable of doing everything. I can be capable of doing what I can, right now. That can change, depending on the day, the time, or how much sleep (and coffee) I’ve had.
My capabilities, my abilities, my self-worth, my contributions to others, and my value as a mother are enough today.
Grief sets many of us back. It freezes us still and doesn’t allow us to move, sometimes for months or years. Once the concrete around my feet softened, I was off and running. Was it too fast?
My capabilities are something that will always be an asset and my weakness. As I move through the stages of grief, what I can do for others and for myself always change. My acceptance of this fact is a hard concept to grasp for an overachiever like myself.
Breathe, slow down. You are enough. You have permission to feel overwhelmed or sad and I will help you. These are texts I regularly get from my best friends when I feel like I am sinking. They reinforce me and remind me that I am capable. Just maybe not today, and that’s just fine.
I’m allowed. You are, too.