"I feel everything and nothing" is something I tapped yesterday on my phone to a friend who was sending me sympathy for my mom's recent passing. After a decade of fighting like hell against the dragon that was a rare, neurodegenerative disease, my mom died on November 6th. My sister and I were by her side.

I played a big role in my mom's care. My sister and I moved her five times in three years to find the absolute best care. I was awoken by innumerable middle of the night calls. We coordinated every single aspect of her exceedingly complex care. Even though her phone calls came in the middle of work meetings or family time or soccer games or conferences, I almost always answered. We had a porch visit with her every Saturday morning during the pandemic.

I am tired.

I feel everything and nothing.

I went for a walk with my daughter Carly and I left my phone at home. I haven't been without my phone in my pocket in years. That felt freeing.

I tried to speak at the shiva my aunt held for my mom and my voice choked. I felt constricted.

I saw her best friends cry at her funeral and no tears ran down my own cheeks. I felt numb.

I'm realizing that to survive this disease and care for my mom while also having and raising children (I was pregnant with my son Griffin when my mom was diagnosed) and building my career, I've built up an armor. I did my best to process what I could and what was most urgent, but many times I simply suited up with my shield and sword to prepare for battle. That was hard enough. I don't think the armor has been fully removed for awhile.

So, that's where I am. Have you ever felt everything and nothing? I look forward to continuing our exploration of our lives together, as mine has taken a new path.

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