Keep Moving in the Waiting

August has always been one of my emotionally difficult months. I dread it.

I’ve experienced many tragedies in August. This post isn’t about those events. But in so many instances, I feel like past Augusts changed or shaped a part of my identity. Like they took a piece of me.

Then every year, I somehow live all that pain again. It becomes even more emotionally exhausting when August brings new challenges.

For the past two years, I released a novel in July: Speechless in July 2024 and Lunch Break in July 2025. I spent so much time in August promoting the books and writing new projects that, although I still grieved August, I was able to dim the pain a bit.

Yet, this year, I didn’t release another book in July. Instead, I was knee-deep in three writing projects: editing draft two of Before I Say I Do, writing draft one of The Definition of Womanhood, and developing Shades of Love.

I thought if I stayed “busy enough,” August wouldn’t get me. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Something happened at the end of July that swallowed me whole. It opened up all the past emotions and feelings from August, and I spiraled out.

I’m an honest person, and I don’t have anything to hide. There were some days that my grief became so painful I didn’t want to leave my bed. I cried a lot.

But this year, I kept moving. Not by avoiding the pain or pretending it wasn’t there as I’ve done before. No, I recognized the discomfort and kept living my life.

I spent hours rereading and creating poetry for Shades of Love. I focused on formatting the story.

I attended a book signing and reading at a local bookstore. The Q&A part was my favorite.

I supported and cheered on my daughter as she faced a difficult decision about her softball career.

I decluttered and organized parts of my house, letting go of material things we didn’t need.

I taught math, reading, and science. I prepared one student for his first day of college.

I took my kids on a vacation and laughed with them. I faced my fear and went down two enclosed water slides.

I cried a lot. I sat on my porch, in my bed, in the car, at the lake, and cried.

I wrote in my journal. I created new poems. I reconstructed old poems.

I lived in the present while still acknowledging the past.

As August comes to an end, I am grateful to have survived another August. But what I realized is that joy and grief can coexist.

I can be in pain but still smile.

I can worry and still enjoy moments.

I can write and create while past insecurities scream in my head.

I can surround myself with love but still grieve the ones I’ve lost.

My motto for August has been “Keep moving in the waiting!” It’s been a tagline I needed more than I realized this month.

It also reminded me that life is a gift, a very special privilege.

Pain and grief are the messy part of life.

For me, I can take those experiences and create stories and poems. I’m not saying I turn my pain into joy because the hurt is still very much there.

I’ve learned that it’s okay to sit in the unknown. I don’t need all the answers. I don’t need to avoid the pain. I can cry, write, and breathe.

So yes, August will always hold the anniversaries of some of my hardest days, but it will also hold memories worth celebrating.

The sun keeps rising and setting, creating new days, new memories, new growth.

I will keep living and grieving, not just in August, but every day forward.