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Posts Tagged ‘grieving’

It’s been two weeks, but there’s not really much to update. I’m still in this hybrid grieving/depression thing. The Not-So-Casual Observer and I spent the majority of my session last night just working out strategies for getting through the next five weeks when there should be some relief, at least in the schedule aspect.

We explored both hopelessness and helplessness and spent some time imagining my ideal life. While it seemed silly at first to imagine all of these things I “can’t” do, it was actually pretty helpful in determining what I’m really passionate about.

The bottom line is that there are two areas of my life that need some serious attention: education and marriage. The Music Man and I spent some time discussing those two things, and we’re hoping to get me back in school by next fall. So, while I’m still depressed/grieving and struggling, at least that feels like a start.

So there it is. Still alive, still struggling. Oh, and tomorrow’s my birthday. So happy birthday to me and all. 🙂

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Today is one of those days when it’s a challenge to be honest. When you feel like, “If I say this out loud, people are going to think that I’m wallowing in self-pity, or I’m a danger to myself or others, or they’ll think I’m just flat crazy.” But it is what it is, and I can’t control what anyone else thinks.

I’m tired in that bone-weary way. In a way that doesn’t feel like this nightmare schedule is ever going to end. In a way that makes me wish I could go hibernate and just never have to wake up.

Now, I know that sounds scary, like I’m deeply depressed, and maybe I am depressed. Heaven knows I haven’t felt like this in a long time. I truly don’t see anything lovely waiting at the end of this road. All I think is, “I just want something in my life to change.”

Never in my life have I felt so rock-bottom exhausted. I don’t have an ounce left to give to anyone, even my family. I’ve spent the last week hiding from my kids for the better part of the day, immersed in the cleaning, the laundry, the work (sigh, I’m so tired of thinking about work).

If this is what grieving is supposed to be like (and I don’t know if it is, actually. Will mention to the NSCO next time I see her), then I can’t see that it’s worth it. I can’t imagine any joy on the other side that would be worth this.

So that’s where I’ve been for the last week or two. Trying to hang on and keep all the necessary plates of child rearing and homeschooling spinning. Trying to be with Jesus enough to make each day bearable. Trying not to get sucked into a dark vacuum.

But I’m not hopeless, not reckless, and definitely not suicidal. I’ve also got a pretty sweet support system in place. And music, I’ve got music. And lots of Jesus, so we’ll count it doable.

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This is Grieving

*Sorry if you got an update earlier. I wrote a longish, wistful post that WordPress ate in the 6-second interlude between tagging and posting.*

I’ve always sort of ignored Father’s Day. Since my own father has been out of my life for almost twenty years, I just haven’t paid it much attention. Of course, I woke up this morning knowing it is Father’s Day. I have a husband who is father to our four kids. I have a father-in-law, and even a stepfather. And somewhere in the world, I have a father.

I’ve been listening to Katy Kinard a lot lately. She’s got a song called Here that says, “And I’ve been falling in the open sky/It’s been hard to even breathe/I’ve been waiting for a father’s love to carry me, to carry me.”

It wrecks me every single time. It causes me anxiety, because I’m just starting to admit that I long to be fathered. I know that God placed that desire in my design, but it’s still a Big Scary Thing. Why is it so hard?

One thing Jesus has been telling me is that a father is meant to be a safe place, a tower of strength and protection. My father was the opposite of all of those things, and because of that I stopped believing that anything like security exists. That I’ve never given my heart to anyone since. That I don’t actually trust anyone.

My father abused me. He harmed me in ways that his leaving actually was the better outcome, and yet I still wanted him around. I used to think that that made me sick, that something was wrong with me, because who wants to be abused? Who wants that person’s presence anymore?

But I think now that the desire to be loved is so strong that even an unreasonable facsimile is preferable to total abandonment. Which tells me that my longing to be loved is ingrained. Which tells me that my God placed it in me for a reason. Which tells me it wasn’t my fault.

It wasn’t my fault.

I told Him what He was saying and how I was feeling were painful and a real downer. He agreed, but told me that this is grieving, and that it is powerful and necessary and beautiful.

“A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows,
is God in his holy dwelling.
God sets the lonely in families” (Ps 68:5-6a)

And that’s all I remember from the post that was lost. 🙂

 

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