Why it’s hard to post a selfie

One of the most disorienting things about life after loss is how much time I spend craving, seeking, and searching for meaning in it all. 

I’m endlessly looking for the meaning in my life, her life, our life, the human experience of life. 

I feel like I’m trying to rebuild my fractured identity on this foundation of meaning— but I can’t find it.

There are so many gaps and unknowns in my identity now— I feel older, involuntarily sober, heavy, and that life after loss feels like a genuine loss of innocence. 

So I circle back to the questions of meaning— what did Kalea’s life mean & what does my life mean now? What the purpose of this and how do I live meaningfully after loss? And WHAT am I supposed to do with the rest of my life?  

I don’t know if this just a me thing or if anyone else feels the same— but WHY is it so hard for me to post a selfie for no reason on Instagram? I feel like everything I post has to be deeply meaningful & that I have to justify sending my face out into your Instagram feed. 

But maybe I don’t. And maybe that’s just me searching for meaning again. Maybe a moment of genuine happiness caught in a selfie is worth sharing or more importantly— worth remembering. 

I went to the temple with a friend this week. For the first time since Kalea died. I don’t know what I was expecting, but besides the initial feelings of familiarity and “home” when I entered the temple, nothing special happened. I didn’t have any strong feelings or impressions. The experience wasn’t meaningful. It just was. It happened. I went. I sat in the celestial room and felt a little disappointed. 

On the car ride home, I told my friend that I felt nothing— and that made me feel like I’m either missing something wonderful or that looking too hard for something that isn’t there.

Her response was immediate— 

“Maybe it’s just enough that you’re there.” 

That resonated.

Hard. 

We talked about grace— about giving ourselves permission to just be somewhere and literally just. be. there. Maybe that’s what it means to be still and know that He is God.

I want to be more still and at peace, more present with the people I love, more grateful for the magic in little moments— enjoying the changing seasons, having good  conversations, watching a good movie, taking a slow walk, and rediscovering what happy feels like in all these small moments. 

So I’m giving myself permission to relax on the meaning. 

And just be here.

And maybe post a random no-reason selfie every once and awhile and not feel like I have to justify it. 

I think I’ve been so caught up with trying to unmask the meaning that I stopped experiencing the wonder of it. 

The reality is— meaning will come, but today only happens once. 

Therefore, live for it.