One of the things my husband, Steven, always said was, “If you bring me a problem, bring a solution.”

I’ve always taken this as practical advice. But recently it has taken over a different meaning in a much deeper way.

When I began my health and fitness journey in 2015, I thought I was simply trying to get healthier physically. What I didn’t realize was how much it would teach me about myself. The greatest gift it gave me was awareness. It brought about an awareness of my patterns, my coping mechanisms, my strength, and my capacity to keep going even when life felt impossibly heavy.

I also discovered something that became undeniable to me: movement truly is medicine.

No, it doesn’t erase the pain or grief, but it helps carry me through it. Some days movement was the only thing that quieted my mind. Some days writing was the only safe place I could express my agony. Somewhere along the way, it made complete sense that I found myself doing both. Writing my memoir while simultaneously training for an endurance event.

Both became forms of survival.

Both contribute to healing.

Early in widowhood, it became painfully clear that some relationships would shift and others would quietly disappear altogether. Grief changes you, and not everyone knows how to walk beside that version of you. There’s a loneliness in that realization that is hard to explain unless you’ve lived it.

But through all of it, writing and movement have helped save me on many levels.

I don’t know that either one is “the solution.” Grief isn’t something to fix or outrun. But they have given me purpose, grounding, clarity, and moments of peace in seasons where peace felt impossible to find.

Maybe healing isn’t about solving the pain.

Maybe it’s about finding the things that help carry you through it.

Life With Lisa