It is quite challenging, in those moments, to find the wherewithal to go on adventures. For all of my globe-trotting, I'm quite the homebody and it can require a lot of energy to motivate myself to go outside. But I do it anyway, I force myself to head out the door and off to visit a friend for a walk in a park, or to explore a museum on my own, or exercise, or to head down a street in search of food and await what moments will come. I do it because I know it's the right thing to do — exactly the opposite of what I want to do, which is to lie in bed and drown my sorrows in mind-numbing activities. It helps that I’ve systematically eliminated said escapist activities, such as watching TV or playing video games, so that if I want to feel sorry for myself I have little choice but to be present with my emotions, which can offer rather poor company when feeling down. Once I get over the inertia, it's relatively easy to keep on rolling along, but boy it is a battle to get the process started.
While on my adventures, I'm still prone to being completely sidelined by some thought that sucks dry the joy from the present moment, when all I can do is keep walking and trusting that one day it will get better. I remind myself of the sage advice from Shel Silverstein’s The Missing Piece Meets the Big O (I’ve never been so emotionally moved by a triangle and a circle), that I must be complete in myself. I focus on journaling, adventuring, learning, spending time with friends, exercising, being alone, dancing, teaching, speaking with friends about my sorrows, and sitting quietly with my thoughts. It's a hard path to walk and right now I still can’t shake the loss; I’m still tormented by uncertainties about the future, and still get blindsided by grief. I don’t yet truly believe in a bright future for myself, but I keep progressing one day at a time, because it’s the only way forward through life.