Everything Could Use A Little Room to Breathe

When you listen to a really great piece of music – it’s those bars before the build up and crescendo take place. In art, it’s the white space or whatever isn’t the point of focus. In life, it’s those moments that are easy, free and not filled with too much excitement. These spaces of breathing room allow us to really appreciate what’s coming next. They give us a moment to just let things settle, take it all in, prepare for what could be coming – whether good or bad. And if something bad does happen, they’re the moments after when we need to let things process and be still.


Naturally, I’m a planner. A real keep-things-moving kind of gal. If there’s a bump in the road, it’s ok. I’ll (most times) gracefully go right over it and leave it in my dust. I compartmentalize it. I put it in a part of my brain that I’ve deemed unworthy of my energy and focus on what I can do next to move the situation forward positively.


Yeah, I get shit done. I don’t dwell. But you know what I don’t do? I don’t give the situation breathing room. I don’t let my brain really process whatever that bump in the road was. I don’t give it time to settle and really sink into the moment. In the bad times, I don’t let myself feel the pain. And in the past, during good times, I would rob myself of the effortless moments of happiness.


I recently just lost a very important person in my life. Not due to death, but an ending of a long, very deep relationship. And to me, it’s almost like a death. That person knew more about the entirety of my being than anyone on the planet. I had never trusted someone like I did him and I gave all the pieces of my soul to him.


I’m broken, for sure. A large part of me will never be replaced. And, because I’m honest, I will say that I’m not giving myself enough room to breathe. It just hurts too damn bad.


But I can have solace in the fact that during the good times, I spent time really enjoying all the spaces of breath. Every effortless moment spent laughing or just being next to the one I loved wasn’t lost on me. I would find myself smiling even when there were no words – just because I could really process and appreciate the happiness. I knew, in those moments, that I should take in every detail and place them in a spot of my memory that I would never be afraid to access. So, I did. And one day, I’ll actually be able to visit that spot – just not today.


We can all use a lesson and practice in giving things room to breathe – both in good times and bad. This is mine. What’s yours?

Sam works in advertising/marketing by day and moonlights with startup consulting, dating profile overhauls, and event planning. She lives in Columbus with her two dogs and spends her free time writing, drinking coffee and local beers, getting zen with yoga, catching a good concert, and laughing with friends. She doesn't give a shit if you're offended by lewd language, so #dealwithit.

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