I was drowning in my grief rather than sitting in it.

More and more each day I am realizing that our society is the cheer up society.

cheer up

The idea of sadness terrifies us.

Sadness is a hallmark symptom of grief. It is the ultimate consequence of losing something or someone we care about. I consider sadness and love ultimately linked.

“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in the hallow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.” -Jamie Anderson

Grief is love.

But yet, we spend a significant amount of time trying to cheer people up.

Because we consider that being sad is bad.

smile

However, I want to challenge you today to consider the idea that being sad isn’t bad.

It’s love.

I spent the first seven years of my grief drowning.

I was in the middle of an ocean of grief- desperately trying to keep my head above water.

My legs were concrete. My arms were large rocks.

I was tired.

Exhausted.

Consumed with my struggle.

I was drowning in my grief rather than sitting in it.

Everyone around me tried to comfort me. Tried to save me. Tried to cheer me up.

“He’s in a better place,”

“God will never give you more than you can handle,”

“He wouldn’t want you to be sad.”

These attempts to comfort me failed miserably. I didn’t need to be comforted. I needed to sit in my grief. I needed the permission to feel sad. I needed permission to feel.

In this clip from Inside Out you see Bing Bong lose something he loved.

Joy attempts to cheer him up. And fails.

Sadness sits with him. Sits with his grief. She empathizes with him.

This is what I needed. When I was drowning. I needed to sit in my grief.

If you know someone who has lost someone or something they love. Maybe something in their life has changed, sit with them. Sit with them even through the uncomfortableness of sadness. Encourage them to feel. Give them the permission they may need.

And remember- you are loved. And sad is not bad.

Grief is love with no place to go.

Grief lasts as long as love lasts- forever.

Somehow, I hope that love becomes light in all of our darknesses of grief.

 

 

When I’m a Mom, I’ll never…

Three years ago I was seriously contemplating not having children.

I was thrilled with my work, my marriage, and my free time to do things I enjoyed. And then we had Greyson. Our 99th percentile baby boy.

Becoming a parent changes you. Your priorities change. And before you know it, you’re doing every single thing you SWORE you’d never do.

I said I would never let my living room become the play area. MY child would keep their toys in their room. Neat. Tidy. Orderly.

living room

Yet, this is how my living room looks daily. We seem to reset it 100 times a day, only to let Greyson bring us back to this.

I said I would never let my child get messy for meals. MY child would be civilized and I would teach him to eat properly (go ahead and laugh at that one). He would also NEVER eat fatty foods like bread and pasta. And he would certainly NEVER have mac n’ cheese, HA!

messy

However, we now just go ahead and strip him for meals because the mess is inevitable plus it’s part of the fun (sensory development, am I right?).

I also said I would keep a clean house. A child keep me from cleaning? What?!

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Yet now I don’t even bother sweeping up his crumbs because I have learned the pasta (that he would NEVER eat) will get dried up and easier to sweep in the morning.

This list of “the things I would never let MY child do” could go on and on and on but you get the point, right?

All these things do is bring on the Mom guilt.

There’s always some Mom doing things better than you.

Their kid only eats vegetables. Their kid uses a spoon at 7 months. Their kid only plays in their room. Their kids sleeps all night. Their kid shows no sign of teething. Their kid naps on a schedule and always, always lets them catch up on their shows. Their kid absolutely does not bite them with their newly developed teeth.

All of these things bring the guilt on.

It can make you feel CRAZY.

And I’ve been there. I went a little crazy for a bit.

I tried, relentlessly, to keep our house clean. To keep Greyson on the world’s most perfect schedule.

But it didn’t work. I continuously fell short because I kept doing all the things I said I would never do. And all the things other Mom’s said they were not doing.

And I was diagnosed with Postpartum Depression. The diagnosis I said I would never get because I would be the best Mom. The most researched Mom. The do-it-all Mom.

But I got help. I got on medication. I handled business.

Some days are still tough. I feel overwhelmed. I cry in parking lots. I’m only human. But some days I feel like SUPER MOM. I vacuum the house. I do my homework. I get Greyson to giggle for 5 minutes straight. I “do-it-all”.

And I’m done saying never. Who knows what I’ll be letting Greyson do next month. It changes daily- for survival. Can I get an Amen?

 

Up, up, and Away

As a child, I was the kid in class with the highest Accelerated Reader (AR) points. My star on the bulletin board far surpassing all the other children in my class. I was also that nerdy girl who competed on a Battle of the Books team and read every single book on the list. Reading was one of the greatest joys of my childhood.

Reading transported me to another world.

A world far away from the violent screams of my ex-stepfather.

Far away from the home I lived in that was heated by a measly kerosene heater and sheets hung up in the doorways to keep every last bit of warmth from escaping.

Far away from my hand-me-down clothes from the girls I went to school with.

Far away from the nightmares that plagued me by day.

Far away from the panicked pleas of my mother to please not hurt her.

Far away from the world where my father took his own life.

Books were my escape.

In a different sense, they still are. Reading is my own version of self-care. When I want to make time for myself all I picture is a good read and a beverage (coffee or green tea preferred). As a new mother, reading time is scarce. Between my regular work and my two side jobs I stay busy, add my coursework in the mix and reading time is almost nonexistent. However, I know as well as anyone- you make time for the things you want to make time for.

So here I am, in 2018, making time for reading.

No excuses.

I decided to follow the Books-A-Million Book Club list for the non-fiction and literary selections.

bam

I started a bit late so I’m wrapping up January’s pick for the non-fiction category and will shortly be moving along to February’s selections. If you need a review just let me know and I will try to get to you.

 

 

This is one of my self-care strategies for Randy’s deployment and just for life in general.

Although I am no longer that 2nd grader with a time traveling machine that transported me as soon as I turned the page- I am a 29 year old woman who enjoys diving into another world.

Trauma may have been what facilitated my love of reading; but escaping reality is what maintained it.

Books help balance me. They ground me. They saved me as a child and they delight me as an adult.

What’s your escape?

That time I cried in Panda Express’s parking lot

There are some nice perks to being a military spouse- great health insurance, a stable income, and even discounts on subs from Firehouse. But there are unique struggles that those of us who share our lives with a military member.

Go ahead, say what you’re thinking: “you signed up for it.”

Cringe.

Okay, in a sense one may have an idea of what their life will resemble when you marry a military member. Deployments, separation from family and loved ones, the unavoidable moves.

Except there are moments you can not possibly prepare for.

Like crying in your car during your lunch break because you imagine your son eating “adult food” like a champ and your husband missing it. Missing it all. His inevitable first steps. First real words. Major developmental milestones.

tears

bug

Yes. I knew what I “signed up for” in a sense. But I couldn’t possibly see the hurt and pain and heartache I would struggle with in the future.

I thought military spouses were supposed to be strong. Resilient. Unbreakable.

I was wrong.

Some days I do feel strong. I push forward. I treat myself to face masks and happily work my side job editing papers after putting my son to sleep.

mask

Other nights, I cry myself to sleep.

And that’s okay.

With all this said, just remember that on your lunch break when the tears flow freely and your heart feels heavy and achy- this isn’t the end. You might wake up the following day renewed and ready to take on the world. You might do a face mask and binge watch Gossip Girl. You’ll never know if you don’t try.

Keep pushing through the tough days- the sun will rise tomorrow.