That's the question that's been ringing in my mind since I last saw the grief counselor almost 2 weeks ago.
What do you do with the pain?
He had examples. Do you yell at your children? (Well, if I'm being honest - sometimes.) Take prescription drugs? (No.)
What do I do with the pain.
Sometimes, I just stay busy.
Sometimes, I tear things apart.
Sometimes, I go shopping.
Sometimes, I have a glass of wine. Or a margarita.
Sometimes, I start a huge project.
Sometimes, I just disappear into music.
One time, I threw something.
What do I do with the pain? Most of the time, I think I try to avoid feeling it.
But then there are times that I just go there. I just hurt. My heart just aches.
It aches.
It just hurts so much on nights like tonight. No particular reason. It just hurts. And it hurts so much that I don't know how I'm going to make it through all of tomorrow. Much less, the rest of my life.
But...
There is a 'but'. There is 'hope'. Hurting is not all there is. I just don't have it in me to go there tonight.
This blog might be my journal, but it's a public journal. You can make a comment. You can remind me of what the 'hope' is, since I can't verbalize it. You can 'go there', when I can't.
And if I don't like what you say, I can always delete it. :-)
I took care of Foster Baby for a couple hours today. I was a little afraid of what it might be like to take care of a baby. I was afraid I'd be really emotional, or have a hard time holding him. But I wasn't emotional. And it wasn't difficult to hold him. The only time I really thought I might fall apart was when he fell asleep in my arms. I looked down at him, saw his eyes closed, and immediately, I could 'see' Elliana in my arms. Her eyes were closed. But she wasn't sleeping anymore. She was gone.
Oh, mama. I'm so sorry. I don't know what to do with the pain, either. Sometimes I have a complete meltdown, and cry and cry and sob. It's been a long time since I had one of those times, but it never feels that far away.
ReplyDeleteWhat to "hope" for. . .golly. I hope for moments of real connection with my living child. I hope for grandchildren. I hope for deeper understanding, deeper wisdom, deeper compassion. The ability to look at what is true in this life, and what is not. The ability to level my gaze and look honestly at the world. I hope for my next good meal.
I hope that the figs will ripen up so sweetly this year. I hope to pull those perfect carrots out of the ground - sweet and alive and real. I hope for goats.
I don't know. I guess that I can honestly only hope for some small pleasures. I hope I get to see Nathaniel again.
love to you, mama.
You are sweet to write. Thank you. :-)
DeleteYour hopes - I love them all. They're real. They're... *life*. They're sort of 'looking beyond yourself'. And that's beautiful.
You'll see Nathaniel again. He's yours... forever. I can't wait for that day - for both of us - the day we hold our babies again.
Love to you, too. :-)
Sometimes it just IS hurt. But you're right, sometimes it's not all about the hurt, which kind of hurts in itself.
ReplyDeleteYour posts so often resonate with me.
Your words say what mine oftentimes can't. They touch where I wasn't sure what I was crying about. Isaiah 41:13 tells us that God is leading His children by the hand. Wherever He leads us, He has something for us. Willingly following and looking for it, accepting and trusting His leading, even the pain that is involved is sometimes all that you can do with the hurt as you lay curled up in a heap. Only in despair can the mercy of God be revealed. Keep writing, keep going, keep seeking your Savior in the hurt. Eternity is a long, long time- this life is a tiny vapor with every detail intended to somehow bring glory to God. I just read in Isaiah 61:3 this morning that there is a day of God's favor coming, and He himself will comfort those who have mourned, making them like oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor. This, too, will be a display of His splendor. That is the hope- Jesus reigning is the hope. Sin being defeated, no more death, an eternity of it- there is much hope.
ReplyDelete