For so many years, I was the girl who dreaded Valentine's Day. Obviously, it was because I was also notoriously single, up until I began dating my husband in 2012.
From what I can remember, beginning in adolescence, I struggled with all that this holiday can be for a weak teenage heart; and secretly hoped for the balloons or flowers, and much more importantly the surprised affection from a crush or secret admirer. I really hoped that my crush at the time would be the secret admirer, but the boys I liked never seemed to be the ones that liked me back. (Story of my life.)
But now, I see this day so differently, and it's why I'm not big on the celebrations. Although I'll admit to wearing red or pink, simply for the kids I work with, and more so my own at home who is always on board for the holidays and a reason to party.
Maybe it's because I still remember my own past feelings, doubts, insecurities, and the never-ending internal questions: What is wrong with me? Why am I still single? Will I ever meet someone who likes me, as I like them?
Although, I think it's much more than my empathy for the single hearts who seek the love they deserve. Rather it's because I am aware that there are so many people suffering from broken hearts that come from loss, grief, illness, mental health conditions, and trauma.
On Valentine's Day, and every other day, I think a lot about why such devastating challenges happen to kind-hearted people. I really struggle to make sense of it all, no matter how hard I try.
I say this after being exposed to so many others' stories and experiences, in both my personal and professional lives. I have worked in three hospitals over the past eight years, and have connected with hundreds of children, parents, caregivers, and family members facing acute illness, traumatic experiences, chronic medical conditions, and life-threatening diseases. I do my best to support the kids and families during their hospital visits, but stuffed animals, lego sets, fidgets, and heart-felt conversations aren't always as healing as some of them truly need. For some, their pain and struggles are constant, and a day in the hospital is sadly far from their biggest challenges.
I am also obviously impacted by my own experiences, knowing what it feels like to watch someone you love physically suffer, while my own mental health and heavy heart struggle in silence. While I pour every ounce of my energy into the fight, my soul is drained and my spirit is overtired.
My husband's health challenges have opened my eyes even wider, especially after connecting and bonding with so many people whose lives have been forever changed by something outside of their control.
I have seen firsthand just how different the world is for people suffering with chronic pain, medical conditions, life-changing stressors, and the inevitable pain that comes as a result of unconditional love and never-ending grief.
In our world, some people are bonded to each other by where they grew up, their beloved alma maters, their work environments, or the journey of parenthood. And others are connected through their shared individual battles with love, loss, heartbreak, trauma, and grief.
Within my own inner circle friends and family members, as well as my professional contacts and the families I've met through my work, I have seen how life changes a person when faced with the never-ending grief of losing a child, a spouse, a partner, a parent, a family member, a close friend, or any other loved one.
Sometimes I find myself thinking: How do they do it? And then I remember, people have said the same thing about me. The answer, at least based on my own story, you just do.
Most days you struggle to get out of bed in the morning, usually because you also had trouble sleeping the night before but also because you struggle to face the reality of another day filled with pain. And then, throughout the day, there are more unexpected challenges that just add to the ones you're already trying to process, let alone manage.
You try to cope through it all, sometimes finding near-instant relief from the uhealthiest of choice but ones that cost much less than those recommended by the professionals. And in reality, therapy can only do so much for such gut-wrenching heartache, as no one really knows exactly what the inner turmoil is like unless they've gone through it themselves.
For me, therapy once provided a safe space to share my hidden struggles, and I was lucky to find someone who understood our situation as much as anyone else can. But it wasn't free, even with decent health insurance coverage, and therefore, no longer an option.
The healthier version of my coping plan became naps. I swear they are my saving grace. They refresh my weary mind and reboot my tired soul. Besides my wake-up grogginess, I've come to find those naps as good as therapy or a workout. In a way, they've become a necessity, even after work and before our nightly routine begins. And on weekends, sometimes my exhausted spirit naps on and off all day because I simply just need a break from my own thoughts and my current place in life.
But these last few years, my other turn-to has also been Cabernet Sauvignon. Most nights, a glass or two, and sometimes three. But a few times, it was the whole bottle, followed by a morning of regret. Why did I drink so much? And then I remember how relaxed I felt doing so, and that the spinning questions in my head slowed down- and sometimes even stopped.
Honestly, my own heightened awareness has made me see the world with such a different lens. And it's the one hidden beauty from all of this. I have come to see just how many people are carrying heavy hearts.
For the most part, on the outside you would never know. They smile and may laugh, just like everyone else. And on social media, they post the photos that they carefully select To show a normal life and therefore, you would never suspect that they are struggling on the inside.
But we do that because it's what we have to do, for no one but ourselves. We have to wake up and live another day, with children to raise, loved ones to care for, jobs to go to, and so many bills to pay.
We have to keep going. Even when our hearts are heavy, or completely broken.