I’m not sure where to even begin with this post. I’ve been trying, guys. So. very. HARD. I’ve been consciously and consistently looking for the miracles (and there really are so many), focusing on the positive and deliberately expressing gratitude, trusting in a greater plan. All while experiencing setback after setback, and while I know I haven’t really been alone, it has certainly felt like it plenty of times.
This past week was a hard one for me. Right after a funeral often is, when the reality of the situation can then crash in on you. I feel like I don’t have time to even take a breath as wave after wave keeps hitting me, making it difficult to continue treading water and not be completely drowning (much less even attempting to make “headway” in this ocean of everything). Waves of grief, waves of pain, waves of such profound loneliness as I have never before experienced, not even right after Kendall died.
I’m not sure what to do with this new level of loneliness, how best to handle it. I’d been warned that the second year post loss is often harder than the first, but adding the loss of my mother on top of it seems nearly unbearable at times. I talk about my friends a lot in this blog, and no question I have some pretty incredible friends and extended family. But they are not there the majority of the time. Of course not, they have their own lives to manage. At least for me, nights when you are grieving are the very hardest, especially without your person there to sit with you, hold you, cry with you.
It was such a silly thing really that bowled me over today. Except I’m already feeling emotionally bruised and fragile. Saturday, Sunday, and today were particularly “grief-y” days for me. I’ve had some difficult, tearful nights, and those waves of emotion constantly feel just under the surface. So what made today even harder?
My freezer. (Told you this was silly, in the grand scheme of things. I mean, compared with losing a loved one…) We discovered that something had happened with our large upright freezer that is out in our carport, and all of the food inside was completely ruined. That was the same freezer that I had just recently filled COMPLETELY with gluten free freezer meals. It was our meat storage (yes, just stocked up). Newly purchased ice cream. Butter, cheese, and on and on. The worst part is all of the gluten free food, though. I was finally feeling like I could maybe get on top of cooking gluten free meals, with the things I then had on hand.
Losing that entire freezer’s worth of food is triggering familiar feelings of fear about not being able to provide for my family. I know logically that’s not true, but those feelings are there all the same. The timing of this also feels like an even bigger blow after the past two months where my income has been so much less than usual. With time off for our trip to Virginia, then the week and a half sick with COVID, and the week and a half taking care of my mom and preparing for the funeral, etc., that adds up to an entire month’s worth of income “lost.” (Only get paid, after all, when actual therapy sessions happen.) And right before all of the back to school expenses, more medical things for one of my children, and some construction starting at our house next week. Bleh, bleh, bleh.
Oh, we’ll be OK. I do know that; there’s a reason we’re counseled to have savings. I will be able to pay all of our bills, and I can purchase more food (honestly, it’s the time that will involve that actually worries me the most). I’ve learned over and over again during the past two years how to exercise faith about our finances. I know that Heavenly Father is aware of me and my family and what we’ll need. We’ve been very blessed and our temporal needs have been more than met. This isn’t a plea for help or asking someone to swoop in and solve my problems. But it feels like time and again I will try to finally get on top of something, like meal planning or organizing, and then something like this, or flooding, or construction problems, or even illness, etc. will crop up and set me back further than I started. It’s hard to not feel like I’m being tested on just how far I can be pushed before I break. I like to rise to challenges, I’m not afraid to buckle down and work harder, but I’m also human. And it’s feeling like it won’t take much more for me to finally snap in two. (No, I won’t actually. I know I’ve gotten through harder. But still feeling awfully brittle and fragile.)
I know, I know, I don’t have to rely solely on my own power and abilities. I don’t need to be reminded of that. These new challenges will pass and the heartache will soften. I don’t doubt that. But in this moment it feels hard. Discouraging. At times overwhelming. I simply want to cry and have my person here to hold me through it, to shoulder some of this with me.
In my last post I talked about recharging. One of the things that probably recharges me the most is attending Education Week, which is in three weeks. I need it, desperately. I need to feel like I can get my feet under me, to take a break and be able to focus on feeling the Spirit and learning things that will help me and my family through the coming year. It feels like the life preserver I need. Because I fully expect that these waves are going to keep coming at me.
