If you’re like me, you don’t slow down. I relish over setting goals, project planning, and task lists. I am an A-type personality that has been raised and has lived as an extrovert for sixty years.  It was only in the last decade that I discovered I am an introvert. And accordingly, is the foundation of why I am an emotional, physical, and spiritual mess.

All my loved ones have begged me to slow down. Including Zane. In the days after Zane was killed, when my grief brought me to my knees every waking moment, I wanted to be alone. I wanted to not have to talk to anyone or listen to them or care for them.  I didn’t want to slow down, I wanted to stop. I wanted just to be by myself. Of course, that did not happen, in fact quite the opposite. I ended up with more family and friends and social events that I was “obliged” to attend that my physical health got worse. Life did not slow down, it moved faster with work, moves, deaths, travel, and at the end of the day, cancer arrived.

I told my family that I believe my diagnosis was because the angels are fed up with me not listening to what I need so have given me a life-threatening wake up call. SLOW DOWN. And I did; but as a properly raised extrovert, I did for just a wee bit.  Not long enough to correctly heal nor long enough to make it a lifestyle. So, no surprise that 6 months later, I find myself back in the doctor’s office with complications that require more tests, x-rays, and medications with scary side effects. Will I ever learn?

Here’s the thing. My therapist told me that when we are grieving, time alone to sit with our pain is essential. What she didn’t tell me, or I didn’t hear, was that sitting alone brought me closer to Zane. When I take the time to slow down and retreat, I feel my energy.  I receive more signs. I have more dreams. I am in less pain. Time alone to sit with my thoughts and dreams recharges me to be able to be there for my family and friends better. Including my son.

I’m not sure why when we feel good, we forget to slow down.  When the energy is there, we often keep running until it is depleted. A friend told me that when illness does not show on the outside, it gives people reason to think you are ok and expect more of you than if you were visibly ill.  And we don’t help ourselves by saying, “I’m ok” when we know we are not. A-type personalities are great at faking being ok. Whether the struggle is mental or physical or both, we soldier on with a tough guy attitude that people learn to count on.

My nephew, struggling with his own health, wears a jacket that has imprinted on it, “Everything’s OK”. He wears it because of the irony of this statement. I laughed the first time I saw him wear it. He smiled and said, “right?” We get each other.  If I was honest, my jacket would bear the statement, “I’m not ok, so don’t ask”. I hate having to explain why or reassuring those asking “it will be ok” when I don’t know.

All that said, we need to be honest with ourselves and others when we are not ok. We need to be comfortable with the times we are not ok. We need to quit pushing ourselves and pretending. We need to set aside time to sit alone and heal. Whether you are an extrovert or an introvert, slowing down and taking time to be alone is essential to feeling our best and to staying connected to those we love here and on the other realm.