Lost in the joy
A week of flowers, dancing and writing
Fifteen months ago, I set off down the hill to the village in search of a yellow butterfly. I was doing Experiment #2 The Volkswagen Jetta Principle in Pam Grouts E² which is all about how the Universe is always there ready to give us what we ask for, if only we can be open to looking for signs and ready to receive.
Well, there was plenty I was open for and ready to receive and I hoped that by seeing this yellow butterfly I’d be shown that things were well on their way. I didn’t see a single one.
Later on that day, we would learn that my son had taken his own life the night before. Two days later, as I crawled into bed I noticed our duvet cover – covered in yellow butterflies.
Months after that day, my husband and I were on our daily woodland walk. We’d taken to escaping to the woods every day to walk, breathe, be in nature and find some peace and stillness. All of a sudden, our little orangybrown terrier Oz, was going crazy chasing the shadow of a butterfly. We laughed. We laughed so hard, all the pent-up stress, grief and emotion came rushing out and for the first time in months, I could see the possibility that I just might be able to get through this and move forward.
Laughing while in grief and finding joy in pain is possible. The light and the dark do exist side by side. You can’t have one without the other and they complete each other in a way I hadn’t thought of before. I needed the dark and for a long time, I wanted to curl up in it, to be consumed by it and be comforted by it.
It took me a while but slowly I’ve learned to welcome in the light. When it feels good, I want to bathe in her glow, feel her warmth and be soothed. And, as I discovered that day, it’s okay. It’s okay to laugh, it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to dance and to feel joy even when you’re hurting.
That is what I wanted this Substack publication to reflect. I chose the name The Shadow of Butterfly because I want to share my life in both its light and darkness.
Just after Joshua died, I poured myself into writing my book because I needed to be somewhere else, I couldn’t cope with the normality of daily life and too much empty space, so I distracted myself. I also wanted to write about things other than sobriety but didn’t really have a place to go. Substack provided the perfect space for me to do that. I wanted to explore my own feelings and try to work through what was going on.
This past week or so has been a typical example of how light and dark, joy and pain can exist side by side and indeed make us richer for the experience.
I’ve been working on a difficult piece of writing about Josh as part of my life writing course with New Writing North. I’ve not slept well the past few nights. We’ve also been working really hard every day since arriving back in the UK to find a suitable place to call home and navigate the system of health, schools, benefits and work, all the while trying to adjust to life here after almost twenty years away. It’s been exhausting as I’ve talked about before.
But yesterday, I got the words down on my emotional piece of writing, we’d had good news about our house earlier in the week and I’d had a lovely floristry class where we made pretty flower crowns. I know you like the flowers so there are photos at the end.
The week had gone well. I was feeling good so I found a great playlist, put on my headphones and turned the volume up. I was alone in my room, dancing, jumping, and letting go, and for the first time in ages, I felt inspired and uplifted. I felt that things were going to be okay. I was so completely in the moment, lost in the music, lost in flow and movement that even my eyebrows joined in. It was 30 minutes of pure dancing joy.
This morning I had a calming, soothing forest bathing session and although it’s raining right now and is grey and damp, I am still feeling the light inside. I hope you too are able to embrace both the light and the dark as they show up for you. Let me know about your week.
Here are more pictures of flowers and time spent in nature!
