Letter 4: Let it Be
When we lean into the uncomfortable
A big welcome to our first contributor, Emily Fleming!
For many years, I’ve been an Emily Fleming fan. A mother, doctor, veteran, wife, keeper of chicks, Emily wears many hats well. While I’ve followed her for a long while on Instagram, I was also lucky enough to work with Emily on her city guide to San Antonio and right after, she moved to one of the most gorgeous parts of Montana. I am beyond excited that Emily agreed to be a regular contributor to The Learning Curve and I know our readers will love her brave, beautiful honesty. — Molly
“Don’t rush through the experiences and circumstances that have the most capacity to transform you.”
Rob Bell
On occasion, I covertly doom scroll Facebook, cringing at which old acquaintances have fallen down conspiracy theory rabbit holes, beaming as I catch up on news of new babies and engagements. Usually I skim past the click-bait controversial opinions, but a few years back, a post stopped me in my tracks. It is a photo of a grieving young widow at Arlington National Cemetery*. She is prostrate and weeping at a gravesite that displays dates that are far too close together. The caption reads: “Memorial Day, in case you thought it was national BBQ Day.”
I have often wondered what Memorial Day must feel like for someone mourning a military service member. I feel fortunate not to know, but it must be so strangely incongruent. The rest of the country is enjoying their day off, barbecuing and raucously celebrating warm weather and sunshine, while you are nursing a still-broken heart.
Why we’ve never flip-flopped the dates for our national observances of Veteran’s Day and Memorial Day is beyond me. Mid-November seems like a more appropriate season for the solemnity warranted by the mourning of the dead. As a veteran, I’d be totally okay with being celebrated and appreciated at the end of May. It feels like a real opportunity missed by the U.S. holiday committee.
At the same time, it makes sense. Naturally, we would try to breeze through such a heavy, mournful day by making it feel so much lighter than it is. We, as a western society, are largely uncomfortable with sitting in grief.
We are given more cultural latitude in mourning a breakup than we are in mourning the loss of a life. Breakups can eventually be funny. Death is messy. And messy emotions are to be avoided.
My dad died eight years ago this May. His death was sudden and unexpected, and the grief hit me like a massive tidal wave, relentless and suffocating. After a week off, I went back to work seeing patients, and was expected to perform as though nothing had happened. In my work life (at a hospital, no less!) and in my home life, well-intentioned platitudes were uncomfortably hurled at me from people who loved me and wanted to ease my hurt: “You’ll get through this.” “This too shall pass.” “Someday you’ll get over it.”
They were misplaced kindnesses, coming from a place of compassion, but landing with an uncomfortable lack of depth or understanding. They were based on the assumption that “normal” grief is temporary. This is something that just hasn’t borne out in my experience.
We have been a nation in mourning for over a year now. Our way of life has been altered drastically and uncomfortably. We have lost so much: hugs and handshakes, seeing people’s faces, basic human interactions, social engagements, live music, and the list goes on. There is reason to hope we will return to something resembling normalcy, but we just don’t know how much longer we have to do this.
As uncomfortable as the grieving can be, there is beauty to be found in leaning into it. Experiencing the fullest expressions of the range of human emotion is something not to be missed. Grief forces you to feel sorrow and pain to a degree you could not have imagined you could stand. But conversely, after grief, experiencing joy feels incomparably ecstatic.
Some of our grief will be temporary. We will go to concerts again. We’ll hug, and see people’s faces. But some of the pain will be slow to heal. The lost senior year can never be re-lived. Going in for chemotherapy alone because visitors aren’t allowed will sting for a long time. Saying goodbye to a loved one over FaceTime will forever feel not good enough.
For those things, I exhort you, let it hurt. Lean into those messy, uncomfortable feelings and let them affect you, and change you. Don’t rush the process. And don’t let anyone make you feel like you have to.
And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree
There will be an answer, let it be
For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, let it be
“Let It Be” The Beatles
*I’ve refrained from reproducing the image here, out of respect for this woman’s privacy.
My 5 Favorites
Moving my body has become an essential piece of my self-care puzzle. I’ve never been much of a gym rat or a runner, but love stretching and strengthening and sweating out the stress. For years, I have done online workouts from home (or abroad!) with barre3, and it has continued to be a lifesaver for me during all the pandemic-related shutdowns. They don’t know it, but the instructors have coached me and lifted me up through some really low days. I am a forever fan.
Whenever I feel like a mocktail, I’ve been reaching for coconut laCroix. Squeeze a fresh lime in there and it is a refreshing, pina colada-esque refresher that has been a sleeper hit amongst my coworkers. If you’re feeling really crazy, top it off with a splash of grapefruit juice. Yum.
My recent change in geography has made me a huge fan of the recreation.gov app. It’s been so helpful as I’ve sought out new places to camp and hike, and makes reserving campsites and park passes so easy. I guess it’s a bit of a niche interest, but if you’re planning to hit the great outdoors this summer, check it out. Might make your life a bit more simple.
While I love a good glam look, most of the time, my makeup routine is pretty minimalist. Concealer, a defined brow, some bronzer, highlighter and mascara—add on a mask and I’m good to go. My lips have basically been an afterthought for the past year. Now that I’m vaccinated and spending more time outdoors, I’m looking forward to spending more time in a maskless state of existence. After years of searching, I found a no-transfer lip color that enhances my skin tone and brightens up my face, without feeling like too much. Best part is, if you have to put the mask back on, the lip gloss stays put. Everybody wins.
Falling down an Instagram rabbit hole led me to my latest read. Somehow someone I follow led me to @the.holistic.psychologist, and I hadn’t followed her long before I was compelled to read her book. Dr. Nicole LePera wrote How to Do the Work as a sort of guidebook for those looking to create and foster their own mental, physical, and spiritual wellness by breaking negative patterns and healing from past wounds. As a physician, I’ve been fascinated by the connections she draws between mental/emotional wellbeing and our physical health. I’m still halfway through it, but I am feeling so empowered. Highly recommend it.
With gratitude,
Emily Fleming
P.S. What “messy” parts of grieving have you had to lean into? How did you make it through?
