Yes, and

I was recently asked by a friend, "How are you doing". As we come up on the one-year anniversary of my sister's passing (a year ago today), they were checking in. I noted to her a few things that have been consuming my time and then ended the message by saying "I am keeping busy". Their response back was "I hope you are not too busy" and with that response, I realized what an inadequate response I gave. I proceeded to note that a more accurate account of how I am doing would be to say that "I am keeping steady".

Keeping steady is the most honest answer to me. Keeping steady represents that movement forward even with the waters a little rough. I am not too busy to ignore or outrun the grief, nor am I stuck in it so deeply that I cannot move forward. Losing that person that knows more about you than anyone else in the world, the one that is your biggest fan, and the first to bring you back to reality, that is a hard thing. You experience daily grief for the loss with moments of sheer joy and gratitude knowing you got to have that person in your life.

I wanted to write about this for a couple of reasons. The first is that I have had people say to me that I am doing so well, and although that may be true, I need people to know that it is not without work. There's been tears, discipline, and the love of a lot of people. I want to help people see- and know- that the down moments are ok. I think they are almost necessary. However, what is also needed is a plan on how to get through those moments. Part of my personal plan is "Yes and..."

The "Yes and..." concept is a popular improv technique. We use "Yes, and..." at our company to ensure that we are always building on ideas and having fruitful discussions. Whether used as a means of brainstorming ideas or as a way to disagree without shutting a conversation down, we find the tool effective. I thought this was relevant to my current situation and thought it worth sharing. It is the duality of it that makes it resonant with what I am currently going through. Here is what I mean...

Am I sad? Yes, and also grateful that have got to be Deb's little sister.

Do I cry? Yes, and then end up smiling because I remember a beautiful of hilarious moment we share together.

Do I miss her? Yes, and I also have had so many amazing people that loved her helping me remember her.

The beauty of "Yes, and..." is that it allows space for seemingly contradictory truths to exist together. Grief and gratitude, sadness and happiness, being lonely and feeling loved are not opposing forces; they often travel side by side. I can be heartbroken that Deb is no longer here and deeply thankful for every memory we created together.

I feel that too often, people feel pressure to choose one narrative: either they are struggling or they are healing. The reality is that healing is rarely linear. It is learning to carry both. "Yes, and..." has become a reminder that I don't have to deny my sadness to appreciate the good that still exists, nor do I have to diminish my gratitude to acknowledge the pain. Both are true. Both deserve space. And perhaps that is what keeping steady really means.