When Everything Falls Apart
And the path to finding clarity in the unknown
TW: This piece talks about the death of a parent and the resulting grief. Please proceed with gentle care.
Sometimes I can sense the fog starting to roll in, and other times it catches me by surprise.
Most recently, I experienced both simultaneously. I remember back in January, I was sitting at a coffee with a friend, naively sharing how excited I was to not have any big changes on the horizon after a year of chaos. (You can read about the chaos here.) A few days after that fateful chat, I received a letter saying that my townhouse was being sold, and I would have to move in a few months. Five days after receiving that letter, I put an offer in on a house and it was accepted. A week after my offer was accepted, my dad died.
I could never have predicted the way my life was about to change. I felt like the rug was pulled out from under me. I was Alice falling down the rabbit hole, and I had nothing to hang on to. I was in freefall until I landed in a brand new timeline where nothing made sense. I truly don’t know how I made it through those first few months. I barely have any memories from that time, and the ones I do have are deeply painful. What I do know is I was fighting through immense amounts of grief, trying to pick up the pieces that were once my life.
Losing my dad was something I could have never prepared for. It sucked. Well, it more than sucked. It wrecked me in ways I will never be able to recover from. I’m getting emotional even trying to write about it which is ironic because he was a pretty stoic person, and as the oldest daughter I tried to meet him with that energy. I always tried to conduct myself in a responsible and respectful manner. Yet, here I am in the aftermath of his loss more emotional than ever. Grief is confusing like that. It’s a wild beast that refuses to be tamed, and as a result I’ve lost all composure and control in its presence. I’ve cried in more public places than I can count. I’ve told numerous unsuspecting strangers about my dad’s passing in hopes that someone else might also see the gaping hole he left behind.
Most of the time we don’t get to gracefully step into and choose the unknown.
It’s something that can sneak up on us when we least expect it, or maybe it comes in swinging like a wrecking ball. What I mean to say is, even if you didn’t choose your circumstance, you do get to choose how you carry yourself through.
Did losing my dad make me want to curl up in bed and never leave? A hundred times yes. Has it brought me new opportunities to engage with myself and grow? Also yes. We are always being shaped by our experiences. You can stick your head in the sand like an ostrich and pretend that life isn’t happening around you, or you can acknowledge the power you have over your own life. That’s how you find clarity. It’s by making the uncomfortable choice to allow yourself to grow, to change, to evolve. Life isn’t meant to be stagnant and neither are you. It’s not about fixing yourself. It’s about finding the courage to allow.
What would happen if you listen to your deepest desires?Who might you become?
These are the questions I’ve started to ask myself as I try to find my north star again and try to build a life that is fulfilling and fits who I am now. I may not have all the answers yet, but every time I show up to listen, I find more clarity and my vision starts to come into focus.
If you’re curious about how to navigate your own unknown space….
You can take this quiz to identify which season of transformation you’re in.
You could read this blog post with tips on how to get unstuck.
You might find support through my coaching program, the Shoreline.
Kim Kogane is a writer and intuitive guide helping you navigate the tender in-between seasons. She lives in a 1930s brick tudor home in the Pacific Northwest with her dog, Cauchy, and three cats. Learn more about Kim.
