Man. This new phase of my life is both a breath of fresh air and challenging. There is so much to do, to write about to acknowledge, so many that I want to thank. So many feelings that I want to explore within myself and with all of you that I sometimes get stuck on the age-old question, “Where do I begin?”

Do I go chronologically? Do I ride the wave of emotional whim? Or do I sit still and listen for the calling? The one that tells me to say yes to the phone call, email, DM… to buy tickets to the show?

It is true I am not the same person I once was. And of course, yes, I mean it the way most people say it… what has happened in the past four years has caused me to grow in ways that would not have happened had I not lost Josiah.

Yes. Yes. Yes. So true…

But I often feel frustrated by that offering–either by the words or the understanding or both–because it is not what I generally mean. I’m not speaking from a spiritually or emotionally evolved place when I say I have changed. I’m speaking from my physiological core–from the place inside of myself that is watching my body’s reactions to stress, triggers and everyday life that were not there before.

I imagine some of you are already reading through the lines, challenging the definitions of the words that I use, trying to make sense of what I’m saying and that’s okay. I’m good with that. And I understand that many of the statements I make are common with people in grief. That I have trouble concentrating. That fatigue sets in much faster than it used to. That my sleep cycles have changed. As have my priorities along with a growing intolerance for frivolous conversations and lack of connection with my peers. These experiences are all very common. My intellect reminds me that I am not special, at least not by that account, and that many of you are nodding in agreement with much of what I say.

I was diagnosed with GAD (generalized anxiety disorder) many, many years ago. There was even a period of time after a really hard break up at 30 years old when I had to go on medication just so I could function with being a single mom (again/still), running my small business while feeling like I had failed (again) while being faced with the same thing most of us are–keeping a roof over our heads.

So, saying now that I struggle with anxiety and panic disorder along with PTSD, panic’s close chaotic friend, doesn’t mean that before Josiah was killed everything was perfect. It wasn’t. I had my ups and downs and all arounds, but it wasn’t what it became. Gratefully, the traumatic grief has subsided along with many of its symptoms, however I still struggle. Normal, everyday situations can still surprise me and hit me right in my solar plexus.

In mid-May, I finally took a leap that had been calling me for several months. I would sometimes come home from work in a breakdown, sobbing to Brian, “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!”

“Then quit,” he replied more than once.

“But we don’t have the money,” I’d continue to cry.

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

But saying that to someone who spent a good portion of her life with self-care that sounded like, “Get it together, Liz. Man up. It isn’t a big deal,” didn’t work.

Even with all of the work I’ve done on myself, I just couldn’t see the truth in what he was saying.

“It must be my feelings, my reactions to things, that are the problem,” I’d say to myself.

Instead of agreeing, even contemplating the idea of leaving my job, I would turn to him and say, “I’ll be okay. I just need a good night’s sleep.”

Then each morning, I would get up hoping things would be different that day. And sometimes they were, but as time wore on, so did my nerves.

In late May after we returned from our trip to Colorado, an illness hit me bad. So bad, almost as bad as covid did and I found myself completely bedridden for five days and then too sick to return to work for another week or so. That illness slowed me down enough to see that the life I was living wasn’t working. It didn’t matter how noble the job was (working for a hospice organization is about as noble as community service can get–and no, it wasn’t that people were dying, it was the amount of work I had to get done in the period of time that I had to do it).

It didn’t matter what I was once capable of. I had to accept the new me, the physiological me with the taxed adrenals and frazzled nervous system, and honor what she was capable of. And so, I handed in my resignation, deciding it better for every aspect of my life and everyone involved, including the organization, that I focus my energy on the book I am writing, Remember the Birds. Making that decision also included acknowledging and processing the fear that I might not be able compete in the job market like I once could.

So, what’s the point? Why am I writing about my anxiety today? My difficulty with the general state of overwhelm and my mental health? Because even this new phase, this one without the job, has its lists of things to do, its ideas of all that I need to tell you, my desire to keep my audience engaged, to increase my scope, to continue my advocacy while also acknowledging the ones who are helping me find my way and sometimes, to be honest, I don’t know where to begin.

That is why I am constantly saying, Baby steps. Baby steps, Liz.

Which has replaced the old, unhelpful, Get it together.

And you know what? It helps!!

One foot in front of the other. One thank you note or letter. One follow up email powered by the courage to press send. One phone call with the shaky voice and hands.

I often ask the semi-rhetorical question, “You know how Mt Everest is climbed?”

“One baby step at a time.”

Shall we begin?

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I’m going to knock off some of my to-do list by using social media to post pictures and give updates that are still lingering from my trip. Please use the links below to see them and show your support!

Do you follow me on social media? It would be really helpful if you did.
Just click the links and press Follow on my pages. Thank you so much!

Liz ❤️

You can find me on fb here (my most active platform):
Remember the Birds: https://www.facebook.com/remember.the.birds/
Help Bring Josiah Home: https://www.facebook.com/helpbringjosiahhome/
Or..
On Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rememberthebirds/
On Threads (I’m new there.): https://www.threads.net/@rememberthebirds
On Twitter/X (for how long, I don’t know): https://twitter.com/LizHilderbrand

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I have a writers group that I join now multiple times a day. Hundreds of people from around the globe joining in on Zoom. If you’d like some accountability and company while you are knocking down your writing tasks whether it be journaling, answering emails, songwriting or penning your blog or book, come join us @ The London Writers Salon where we meet four times a day at 8:00 am in four different time zones: London, New York, LA and New Zealand.