What "Both/And" Actually Looks Like on a Hard Day
Estimated read time: 6 minutes
Full transparency, I started writing this in June and it’s been a struggle to articulate all I have to share about the “both/and” on a hard day. Even today, in mid-September, I feel like I’m taking it one day at a time, but I feel it’s important to acknowledge and share this strange space I’m existing in right now.
So let me set the stage, school’s out, Father’s Day just passed, and we are traveling to visit family this week. I am all up in my feels. About season transitions, missing my dad on the day of celebrating dads, and prepping for a trip where my dad will not be there (he passed away in February). I know what you may be thinking, “Who cares. We all have hard days.” And yes, that may be true. But, lately, thoughts of my dad have been cropping up in small moments. Everyday moments. Like driving my car to run errands—bam— a commercial that mentions his name unexpectedly (for a completely unrelated person, but woof, what a sign). Like watching my son’s preschool graduation. My dad would have loved to see pictures and hear all about it. And while celebrating my husband on Father’s Day. It was so sweet to see how my kids loved on him. And gosh, I wish I could have done the same thing for my dad.
This weekend we’re off to visit my stepmom. What should be a trip to visit both my dad and stepmom is now just a trip to visit with her. Please don’t mistake this for disappointment. I am happy to see her. I love spending time with her, we always have fascinating chats and interesting adventures. It’s just the lack of dad in that equation. I’m feeling both excited to visit and sad that my dad won’t be there.
Jump to:
What We're Usually Told To Do With Hard Feelings
When dealing with hard feelings, we are told to:
Identify emotions.
Name what the feeling.
Respond and process the emotion in a healthy way
Learn from experiences to better adapt in the future
Become more resilient
And holy cow, it becomes a whole other job just to manage my feelings. Trying to mirror healthy acknowledgement of hard feelings while also remaining a functional adult and co-parent of two young children. In my house, it’s not possible for me to fall apart completely. My two little humans need me to be upright and functional. It’s exhausting.
The Day
Butterflies were frequent visitors the weekend of my Dad’s memorial. To me, it’s one of the signs my sister sends when I’m missing her,
As we pack up the car and get on the highway, my breath catches in my throat. The last time we made this trip was for my dad’s memorial in the spring. And that whole weekend was a blur.
This time, I feel happy and sad. Happy to be on the way to visit someone I love, but sad that my father won’t be part of it, at least in body. I like to think he crops up in spirit from time to time (and if you are on the fence about this type of thing, I highly recommend reading Signs by Laura Lynne Jackson).
Each stop along the way reminds me of the road trips my sisters and I would take with my dad, to visit my grandma or other family around the states. How strange it feels to know that he will not be on the backporch waiting for us to arrive. I’m simultaneously excited to be back in a place that feels like home and also dreading it.
And yet, I know he will make himself known, in birds. In deer visiting the hill. In the warm feeling I get when I walk into the house. Almost like a hug. I know he will show us he is there.
Once we park the car, the kids unbuckled, we all dash to the front door, ready to rest from a long trip. Weary from the traffic and the heavy emotions beneath our calm demeanors. A big hug from my stepmom grounds me. I instantly feel my dad through her, in her warmth and love. And I’m glad to be back in this place. Even with the heavy memories, there are so many good, small moments that flash through my head. And the excitement of my kids, to see their grandma, to be in a place that feels like home away from home, it’s a gift. With the hard parts of grief, I am thankful for those glimmers of joy.
What I've Come to Understand
It seems illogical to feel two opposing emotions, but as a human, we have the privilege of experiencing conflicting sentiments. The “both/and” framework helped me to accept two opposing emotions. Over the past few months, I’ve been finding moments of joy among the grief. While beginning to understand we can feel two opposite emotions, I also started to learn that feeling both/and doesn’t fix anything. But, naming what I’m feeling is a big step in my healing journey. I can feel both heartbroken that my dad is gone, and a small moment of joy in hearing my kids laughing together. Both feelings are true, and they can coexist.
What This Looks Like In Practice
I’ve been existing in the space of immense grief in missing my dad, and finding pockets of happiness and peace as I spend time with my people, whether it’s my kids, my husband, my stepmom, or my sisters. When we are together, we acknowledge how much it sucks that he is gone and how sad we are. But simultaneously, how grateful we are to gather, to love, to have time to enjoy each other. Life is fleeting, and each time I lose a loved one, that lesson comes crashing back into the forefront of my consciousness.
I’ve experienced both/and feelings over the years, as I navigated infertility and IVF while watching my friends easily fall pregnant. Hurting because my partner and I were struggling to conceive and also happy for my friend and her partner in this exciting new chapter for their relationship and life. Both feelings are true and there is no need to minimize one or try to invalidate the conflicting feelings. Trust me, there have been some dark moments when a family member shared happy news about a pregnancy and while I was happy, I also ran to the bathroom to sob because I was sad we were struggling so hard to get to the same place.
So in this current season, I am recognizing my feelings, naming them and accepting that they may be contrary to each other. I can be happy to visit my family and sorrowful because it won’t be the same. One of my people will not be there.
Now, as I am making the re-packing list, staging everything by the front door, and feeling tears well up intermittently as I miss my dad, I know my feelings don’t need fixing. Its okay to sit with these emotions.
For those of you in the middle of feeling both/and, whether it’s because of unexpected changes in your cycle, losing a loved one while also finding moments of joy, or just generally conflicted emotionally, I created a resource to journal through that.
Check out the 30 Day Both/And Journal—a dedicated space to sit with the complicated feelings with no need to solve them.