I’m going to preface this post by admitting that I am in a weird headspace right now, which will likely color what I end up saying. But I’m banking on that whole “admitting something on Meal Train makes it feel not quite so hard” pattern I have going on here, as well as the therapeutic value I find in writing out the things that are in my head.
Uh oh, did that make you tense up at all? (Or maybe bail and stop reading altogether, at which point this sentence was completely moot?) Don’t worry, there’s nothing seriously wrong or anything. It has just been an especially difficult week emotionally, and I am feeling wrung out. In so many ways. On top of the grief that has been a constant presence, there were also some additional outside stressors that made this week feel hard. Struggling when my mom was in the hospital to undergo a new radiation regimen, as both the hospital room itself and SO many things surrounding the radiation have really been triggering for me. Some especially tough situations at work that needed to involve authorities to make sure the children involved were safe, and my heart hurting over the things that had happened. Especially hard (and triggering) things for my children with multiple friends, that have brought up a lot of feelings about their dad, his cancer, his dying. I could keep going, but mostly it has all felt particularly heavy and hard to manage as I already was feeling so vulnerable and bombarded emotionally right now.
I’ve noted this week that the grief itself has actually been a lot stronger, and harder to navigate. I’ve been missing Kenny more acutely than I have for a bit (and I have been playing Imagine Dragon’s song “Wrecked” WAY too often), probably because I have been so focused the past few months on processing through trauma and PTSD. But I suppose this is normal, leading up to the one year anniversary. It’s just felt like…well, it’s been a lot. Is a lot. I’m so grateful that I made the decision to take the next week off from work. It was such a relief when I finished with my last session this past week and knew that I finally got to have a “break.”
Are you tired of hearing how oh so very hard things are all the time? (OK, to be fair, I don’t write about that ALL the time…) I mean, it has been (almost) an entire year, after all. Just recently a new diagnosis was added to the DSM-5 called “prolonged grief disorder,” and reading about it has given me pause. AM I overly preoccupied with how my loved one died? AM I feeling stuck or immobilized by my grief? Because the intensity of these past few weeks and months working through so very many things, even sometimes feeling like I was reliving them to an extent, has taken a great deal of my time and energy.
But no, I don’t think I have a diagnosable disorder (well, at least not that one, ha). For me, it has been a necessary part of my journey to really work my way through each part in order to process, accept, and be able to heal and move forward. In many ways, doing so now has felt much harder than it was actually living through it then. A year ago I wasn’t spending each minute thinking about how awful things were. I knew I was being given divine help. There were many beautiful moments amidst the hard. I could physically feel how I was carried by the prayers that were being offered in my, our, behalf. I had a purpose, was able to clearly recognize and understand what I needed to be doing. I was kept going by the pressing desire to be able to help, to make a difference, that hope that we would be given the outcome we all so desperately wanted.
In contrast, now my brain has needed to be able to acknowledge how horrible some of the things were that happened, to face some things without that same sense of purpose and hopeful optimism and DRIVE that I felt then. This hasn’t been something I can just muscle my way through, or push harder to get past. I have had to be OK with simply sitting with the process, fully allowing my body (and brain) to feel and remember what it needed to. And while I am doing just that, it has been painful. Add on top of everything that lately I have not been sleeping well, or really been sleeping much at all. So is it any wonder I’m feeling worn out?
Elder Quentin L. Cook said, “The refiner’s fire is real, and qualities of character and righteousness that are forged in the furnace of affliction perfect and purify us and prepare us to meet God.” It’s true, I have felt back in the fire recently, like I’m being further forged and purified in some very painful ways. So I can’t help but wonder, is it possible to view the pain itself as something beautiful, perhaps even sacred? To focus on the refining aspect of suffering, even in the midst of it? Could it simply be a matter of making the conscious choice to do so?
A friend reminded me this week that faith is really trusting. I can (and do) choose to trust this process, trust that God is not only aware of me and knows what I ultimately need, but that the same is true for everyone. And as I am weighed down by not being able to take away the trials of those around me, I can also trust that God is fully aware of their suffering and pain, as well as knowing what they need to be able to successfully navigate their own journeys. He is in charge, and they, we all, are going to be OK. And really, I do believe that the greater our sorrow, the greater is our capacity to feel joy.
So, I choose to look forward and keep growing. Not only will I get through “reliving” and processing everything from that day that Kenny died (the details of which I have not yet spoken of or written about, everything that day entailed, when my entire world changed), but I will get through all of next week, and the week after, and the many many ones yet to come. I deliberately choose to consider it a gift, even a privilege, that I have been allowed to experience ALL of this, to continue to be refined. Isn’t is amazing that each one of us has that privilege with the defining AND refining experiences that make up our lives?
(See, I knew I would feel better working through all of that. Thanks much, Meal Train friends! And behold, you can view one of only two attempts I EVER made at cross-stitching. I made and sent this to Elder Sawyer way back when, as it was a scripture that held special significance for both of us. Can I just say, it was SO hard trying to find “missionary appropriate” gifts that seemed personalized, weren’t too heavy so they wouldn’t cost their weight in gold to ship, and would make it through the crazy strict Romanian customs!)
