By Deborah Blackwell

So many things.

Like, I got fired by my top-notch hair dresser this week because I didn’t want to pay her steep rate when her novice intern basically does my hair.

I had surgery to remove a pre-melanoma chunk of skin from the top of my foot. That was really stressful.

Our credit card was hacked, and the bank rep accidentally cancelled two cards. So, we not only had the discomfort of theft, but auto-pay issues ensued.

So many things. I love those words.

Those are the words Sir Husband’s guru said to me in an email exchange we had after Sir Husband returned from his week-long retreat on grief. I wrote him to thank him for the profound transformation Sir Husband experienced, after years of no relief. He went because his family and children abandoned him when he made one of the most important decisions of his life — marrying me — and he was finally ready to face that great loss.

That’s a heavy load for a couple of high school BFF’s whose divinely ordained destiny reunited them midlife. We’d been trying to cope with the pain for more than a decade when out of nowhere, we crossed paths with this very special human whose life mission is to help others learn to accept and live with their grief.

But turns out there was a bonus layer. His wife, a former primary care medical doctor, also has POTS, like me. After developing long Covid, her journey changed, and she shifted to Integrative Medicine to help herself, and others face so many things.

Those words are a metaphor for life.

From birth, layers build — some good, some awful — leaving residue in the body and mind that makes our path tricky to navigate, or curiously intriguing. I have spent decades trying to sort out and heal from so many things, only to have more things pile on. One thing gets resolved; another crops up. Again…and again…and again. I strive and search for relief, but they keep building.

The world, its wars, divisiveness, power battles, pandemics, mega-corporations, inflation, artificial intelligence, climate change, all cascade into our existence. And that doesn’t even touch our personal plights.

No matter how hard I work to deal with so many things, or how many people I turn to for help, I’m left with only one thing: myself. I have to try to look at what was and get on with what is. But it’s not easy.

Sir Husband immersed himself in his special retreat, bubbled in the safety of enlightened, educated people who share wisdom to help others heal. But real life is, well, real. He’s still got so many things. They’re softened, but it takes guts to look at them every day, feel them, and persevere despite them.

Do we ever get used to being in our shoes, walking around with our own delicate issues, often hidden from the outside world, wondering if anybody could possibly understand? It can feel so exhausting, dispiriting, dysfunctional. I wonder, when is enough, enough? I want to enjoy life, feel comfortable, safe. To smile and mean it. To trust that all is, and will be well. The thing is, this is life.

Our feelings and perceptions are influenced by a lifetime of so many things. We focus on how things should be, and how we think they should be for other people, but we don’t know anybody’s so many things. Besides, we have enough of our own.

There’s no easy answer, except to try to explore and embrace our things, knowing they’re an active part of life. As much as we want to change or fix or erase them, we can step back. Pause. And simply allow them to be. They bring contrast, steer options, guide decisions, instill hope, create meaning, and if we’re lucky, offer satisfaction, helping us remember, we’re doing the best we can.

Not to mention, everybody has them, so at least we’re not alone.

“So many things become beautiful when you really look."

Lauren Oliver, author, Before I Fall