Melancholy Morning

Even as 2024 taught me the power of prioritizing joy, so much so in fact that I have vowed to pursue this goal even deeper in 2025, there are still days where I feel life weighing upon my heart. This morning, as I enjoyed my morning ritual of coffee, word puzzles, and snuggles with Frankie in my little couch nest, a wave of melancholy washed over me. 

I know it stems from grief. 

I know it will always be with me, a lesson that solidified during my time with Becky Howell of Equine-led Holistic Success (formerly Meeting Place Equine). I stood in the barn aisle, listening to my body, asking my shoulder where and why the tension originated from. (Yes, I was initially rolling my eyes behind my closed lids...until I heard my body respond.) First, the word pain. I was stunned. Astonished. I'd truly only complied with Becky's directions, never expecting results from what I thought was a too hooey-hooey ask even for me! 

And then, as I listened with a slightly more open mind, my shoulder screamed at me. GRIEF.

Tears, hot and unexpectedly ran down my face. For minutes! There was only acceptance from Becky as she whispered guidance to me. Finally, with a sob caught in my throat, my eyes opened and we processed this experience. Becky asked if I wanted her to offer stretches and exercises to relieve this shoulder issue. With a sigh, I explained that this pain would always exist to some degree because it stems from grief.

We grieve, because we love. 

Because grief is woven through me, threaded into my everything, mornings like this no longer knock me down. I roll with the wave of nostalgia, allow memories of my son space and time, and savor the details that are missed with his absence. Melancholy no longer runs roughshod over my existence, but is like salt on a decent meal, bringing the taste to a heightened level of experience. 

As 2025 continues my search for learning, for understanding myself and my needs on a deeper level, I feel more contentment from this morning's cloud of missing rather than a jab of pain. Don't misunderstand, there are still times when I crawl under covers and cry, missing my lost boy. There will also always be those times...but they pass, I rise, and life continues.

Now, as the sun peeks through morning clouds and disguises polar temperatures, the day seems lighter. Frankie warms my feet where they are tucked beneath me on the couch. My calendar holds no commitments, which means I have free rein to write, read, interact with my R+ peeps on Shawna Karrasch Equine, play with my horses inside the barn and out of the bitter January winds, or do nothing at all.

What happens is up to me, the mood I decide to own, and the choices I make.

Don't fear melancholy. Appreciate the precious things, feel your feels, and own your joy. Make the life you wish to lead without apology, and love so deeply that grief will be worth it all in the end.