Soulever

“Soulever” – the French word for Lift. I have been getting harassed lately by a sweet old couple on my solo walks during our seemingly everlasting pandemic.  Every weekday I take my phone, inhaler, and airpods on a walk around our winding neighborhoods, all surrounded by water.  I walk by an elderly couple who lives near us, and every walk, it’s always the same – they are sitting outside on their concrete walkway in lawn chairs, soaking up all the healthy vitamin D they can get.  The husband says the same thing to me, and I turn down my volume so I can catch it, “What, are you looking at the sun? Why you always looking up? Take those sunglasses off so you can see it!”

I’m looking up because I love that part of their neighborhood. When nothing but blue and yellow fills the sky, the sun shining and not a cloud out, they have these beautiful trees with miniature white flowers.  The wind hits in just the right way and I get a nice snow of petals that falls around my face, my shoulders, my waist, then my ankles.  I love this street.

I’m looking up because I’m tired of looking down – at my laptop, at my phone, at laundry, at dishes, at my vacuum, at my sneakers, at cracks in the sidewalk – I am worn out from looking at things I’m worried about.  Looking down has not brought me any joy lately. Looking down and side to side, seeing the world crash around you like a giant sequoia that’s been cut too soon, consumes me with what we are all feeling right now – grief.

Time suddenly became a burden a few weeks ago.  I started a temporary leave from work and needed some distractions – ASAP.  I started to do all the looking down I could do, thinking I could do it all – stay in check with the news, look at emails every day, study for an upcoming certification constantly (to make sure I was ahead!), work out one hour every day (no skipping!), vacuum, laundry, dishes, repeat, look up ways to make myself even healthier, keep a constant and rigid bedtime schedule of 8:59pm and maintain that by looking at my phone every eight minutes.  The days were going so fast! Whoahoo!

But nothing felt productive anymore.  All the consistency put into routine and looking down wasn’t helping me feel ‘good’ about being here on this earth -  it only made me feel like I was on a treadmill going nowhere, contributing to absolutely nothing.  Everything physically hurt – muscles, joints, ligaments – and took a few days to feel better. My mind felt extreme fatigue, and my focus was never on what I needed it to be on. As one friend put it so well – you’re not tired but not well rested; not sad but not happy; not bored but not occupied. 

And so it took three weeks-but I stopped.

I still woke up early, but now bedtime was 9-10pm. I turned my brain off of obsessive studying for a few days. Instead I dived into Ted talks on breathing patterns and neuromotor recruitment and I emailed and conversed with some of the top minds in my field. I exercised for the time that my body allowed and didn’t push it unless I felt like my lungs really needed me that day. I allowed my emotions to heal and I cried. For myself and my fear but more for those around me – my healthcare heroes, my friends, my family.  Zoom-ing with friends I haven’t seen since our wedding was one of the best moments. Spending time with Rob – time that we gave up so much while I was in grad school, and after that doing treatments and getting sick, buying a house, getting married – we actually have time now to just be.

I encourage you to elevate, raise, lift, Soulever – over the next few weeks. I understand that the times seem dark, in distinctive ways for so many different people.  I’ve read, I’ve listened, I’ve talked, and I’ve watched numerous videos on what you’re going through in the past three months, right now, and the next few months – and I love you. I probably don’t even know you, but I do love you. Whoever is reading this please know that.  

I love you because you washed your hands, you stayed home, you wore a mask and gloves, you coughed into your elbow, and you took your socks and shoes off before coming in your house (no just me? Every time? OK). Thank you for keeping us all well by taking precautions. Bold statement but true – you saved my life.

I’ve posted this in here and I’ll post it again - Dum spiro spero – While I breathe, I hope. My hope is that we keep elevating each other, raising one another up, lifting our eyes to the sky and looking for the windstorm of white flowers. You keep looking and I will too.

Breathing & Beating,

Meghan