Moving FORWARD, not "moving on"

Lots of big events have happened since I last wrote. They are in a chronological (if conventional) order:
1. I resigned from my job
2. We took a family trip to the San Francisco Bay Area to have a great time with dear friends
3. I went to a women’s retreat called The Gift and—no joke—had a transformative experience
4. We commemorated Elise’s birth and death day on Wednesday the 7th.

At the Gift, I was able to let go of a lingering, if irrational, feeling of helplessness and failure over Elise's death. I knew in my mind that I hadn't caused her death, but my body and spirit ached with the pain of not being able to protect her in my role as her mother, especially since I was carrying her at the time she died. But at the retreat, I gave voice to this agony and exorcised it. I let go of trying to control my future, said goodbye to the inner "control freak" whose existence I hadn't noticed until that weekend, and claimed my role as Elise's mother . I also claimed my role as my own parent: a practice of self-care and compassion for myself, instead of the perfectionism I've demanded of myself all these years.

I'd already rejected a big part of the soul-crushing expectations I've had for myself by leaving my job as a tenure-track professor. Some of the parts of my job worked for me: the satisfaction of finishing a piece of writing; my wonderful colleagues; the excitement of listening to my students' ideas and learning from them in classroom discussions; the challenge of getting an idea across in writing and in lecturing to students. But I didn't write and publish quickly enough; I didn't like administrative work; and when I showed up for class on the first day of the fall term and found I didn't want to perform for a room full of strangers in my fragile emotional state, it was a pivotal moment. I don't want to be here, I thought. I don't want to perform for others, I want to go inside me and find what I need to care for this pain. I want to be with my boys, and with myself, in our home.

Once I took a leave of absence, I started to feel a lightness I'd never experienced before. With our wonderful week in Berkeley and Stinson Beach with Dana and Mike, David and Cynthia and Baby Jacob, then a retreat with amazing women where I plunged to the depths of my pain and was lifted up, I emerged from a chrysalis. The pain of losing Elise will always be with me. But I've made peace with it, and I'm not afraid to feel it. My experiences with her are not solely painful ones, but show me the way to compassion and gratitude.