I went back to work this week, after almost 6 weeks off. I was off two weeks when Dad first died, then returned for 2.5 days, which was a huge disaster, then was off for 4 more weeks. It has been good to be back. I missed my coworkers, who are the best team around, and it was helpful to be able to be mentally and physically busy again. So, my work days have been good.
The rest of the week my non-work hours have been a challenge. I just chuckled as I reread that sentence, as it is huge, glaring, not-funny-at-all understatement. Satan has been after me HARD this week. Most mornings this week I have cried on my way to work and again on the way home. Friday night was the darkest time in my grieving so far. Maybe in my life, and that's saying something.
My theory is that now that I have started to make it past the shock of everything that happened and am feeling less paralyzed by it all, I am able to turn more and more to the Lord for the comfort and restoration that I have known all along that He offered. No more depending solely on people to carry me there. I am making my own way to the feet of Jesus. And Satan HATES that. He was much happier when I was lost. So he has been sending me those doubting thoughts, in myself and my Savior. But do you know what things are getting me through? What things are fighting Satan and winning every battle?
First is standing on the words that God has given me, given all of us, to know the TRUTH.
Scripture is filled with God's reassurance that He has a perfect plan for us (For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. Jeremiah 29:11) and that just because we don't understand doesn't mean God isn't in control (Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. Proverbs 3:5). I also know that those seeds of doubt, those overwhelming What Ifs, the fear, the anxiety - none of that is from God. That's all Satan. (Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James 1:17). Did you get that last part? He does not change. So it gives me great comfort to remind myself that He has always walked me through every trial and this one is no different.
The second part of winning the battles is being surround by some of the best people on the planet. My people.
I have one friend who always seems to be just one text away, one step away, with just the right thing to say. She helped me battle Satan after a particularly rough drive to work one day, as Satan was drowning me in What Ifs. And another day as a panic attack hit me for no apparent reason in the grocery parking lot. I have no idea what she was doing at that moment, but she dropped whatever it was to talk me through it, encouraging me to breath and redirect and survive. She's also the friend that, when I texted to see if she had left for vacation yet, texts me with "No, we're leaving in about 30 minutes. Do you need something? I can come help right now." <3 :)
There is also my friend that has been by my side for over 30 years now. She's the one that knows what I need without me even having to say it, often before I even realize it. She embodies the phrase "Love shows up" and has for all 30+ years. She's the one that texted me seemingly out of the blue with a crazy idea - let's take a trip! It sounded wonderful and crazy and impossible when she first texted me, but the more we talked, the more I realized it was perfect. It is timed right between Thanksgiving and Christmas, times that I am already dreading. I gives me something to look forward to, instead of dread. And even better, she had it all planned. I didn't have to use one single frazzled brain cell. I simply texted her the next day with "I'm in!" and an hour later we were all set!
And there is my not-enough-adjectives-to-describe-how-wonderful-he-is husband. The guy who, when he walks in the door from work to me saying "hey what do you think about me taking a trip with my friend", says "absolutely, whatever you need honey" and means it. The poor guy wants to heal my pain and fix things so desperately that I could probably say that I feel like joining the NASA space program would make me feel better and he would start googling applications. He's ever so patiently watched me burst into tears for no reason at all for days on end. He's watched me be clingy and grumpy and happy and sad, riding along on my emotional rollercoaster like a champ.
There are my kids, who have taken turns babysitting me when I am too anxious to be alone and listening to me ramble about my scattered emotions. They offer great advice and wonderful shoulders to cry on, even as they grieve themselves. There is my mom, who checks on me at least daily, sometimes hourly, depending on how I am doing. She makes sure I'm okay, that I'm taking care of myself, that I'm hydrating and eating and sleeping and all the things moms worry about for their children who are struggling. And I guess I should also mention my wonderful grief and trauma therapist who has been an additional gift from God through all of this. Kudos to her and her calm, steadying, nonjudgemental guidance.
I could not do life without my God and my people. And I hope and pray that whatever you are going through, whether it be the loss of a loved one, a major life change, struggles with a loved one, whatever it is, that you can cling to the promises of God and to the people in your life. One thing that I've learned is that it's okay to ask for help. Some people are better than others at stepping in, but just because they might not know intuitively what you need, doesn't mean they wouldn't love to help. And don't be afraid of professional help, even if you have a wonderful support network. It's not a dig at them if you need someone from outside the circle to help you work through things.
And most importantly, I hope that you turn to the Ultimate Healer and Comforter, Jesus Christ. He's also just waiting for you to ask.
Sunday, July 16, 2017
Saturday, July 8, 2017
An Honest Look
Unfortunately, I have many friends and family that have gone through recent loss of a loved one. Because of this, and because some of my blog posts have discussed grief, I have had a chance to talk with several of them about the grieving process. I have let them know that, even though I wrote about some progress that I've made and some things that I've thought through since Dad died, it's been hard. Beyond hard. And that things have been a thousand times harder than I have been willing to write about so far. That while there are better times and days, there are still really painful moments and difficult to navigate through days.
I just didn't want them to think that because their grief journey was different than mine, that it was wrong. Some of the things that I have been learning, and wholeheartedly agree with but sometimes find my soul forgetting, is that everyone's journey is different and that you're allowed to feel how you feel. Period.
So I thought I'd try to give an honest glimpse into what this journey has been like so far on the off chance that it could help someone else that is dealing with grief and struggling.
The first few weeks were a blur. Dad's death was completely unexpected. He went from being completely fine, having had same-day surgery to have his gallbladder removed and literal minutes from walking out the hospital door to go home, to sick, then non-responsive, then coding, in a matter of 15 minutes. I was alone with him in the room and witnessed it all, as well as the entire code.
Those images haunted me for weeks. I basically stopped sleeping, getting at the most 3 hours of fitful sleep per night, sometimes less. And it wasn't that I was just seeing it, I was reliving it. I was a wreck. I lost 8 lbs in the first week. We got through the service, though I'm not sure how. The amount of decisions to be made and stuff that has to be done between death and burial still amazes me.
I received my 3 days bereavement time from work (is that ever sufficient time? I can't imagine), plus a few additional days due to Memorial Day and a few vacation days that I took. I went back to work exactly two weeks to the day from when Dad died, one week after his funeral. I was a complete mess. Still not sleeping, I couldn't concentrate. I was still frequently tearful at random moments and having those "reliving" flashbacks throughout the day. I was only able to work 2.5 days, and spent much of that time in the bathroom crying or trying to just regain my composure. Thankfully, I was able to arrange appointments with both a grief and trauma therapist and also my family doctor.
Upon recommendation from them, I took medical leave. I also agreed to start taking some short term medication to help with the sleep and the anxiety/depression issues. These meds, coupled with weekly visits with the (wonderful) grief and trauma therapist, have been a signifcant help. The therapist uses a method called EMDR to help with the flashbacks. I had never heard of it, although others that I know have, but read good things about PTSD patients that had success with it. She told me in the beginning the goal was for me to be able to remember the events without reliving it. There is a significant difference between the two.
Things are improving now. It's been 6 weeks since Dad died. I am routinely getting 6 or so hours of sleep per night. The flashbacks spaced further and further apart and I am now at a point that I can simply remember the events without feeling like it is happening all over again. Days are still hard, but less overwhelming. I miss him desperately. My brain seems less focused on the day I lost him and now spends its time trying to understand that he's really gone and figure out what life will look like going forward. Still having tearful moments and can get caught off guard by weird things that cause unexpected grief.
And I'm taking baby steps to help improve my health and healing. Light exercise, rest, diversion activities, keeping hydrated, prayer, time in God's word, time in nature. Even though at times I have had to make myself do some of these, I know they are in my best interest.
I have been released to go back to work on Monday. I feel good about this and am feeling like I can actually go back and perform my job, which I'm sure my coworkers will be glad to hear. I spend much less time worry about how I'm supposed to be feeling and acting, and more time trying to work through my actual feelings. But those judgement thoughts still creep in occasionally. I try to be accepting of what I'm feeling and honor those needs. Not feeling like being in a crowd? I stay home, even if it means canceling plans. Being at home alone allowing too many difficult thoughts in? I go visit someone or run to the store, even if it means abandoning housework that I wanted to accomplish. Need a nap? Need to talk? Need to spend an hour playing solitaire on my phone? Then that's what I try to do. And I am blessed beyond belief to have a wonderful support network, including my amazingly patient and loving husband, to let me do what I need to do.
So if you're grieving, or know someone who is, I hope that you've heard my message. Everyone's journey is different. It doesn't matter if your loved one's death was expected or sudden, if you were close to them or your relationship was strained, if they've been gone a week or a year. You get to feel how you feel. Take care of yourself. Get support, in whatever form you need that to be.
And you can always call me. As I have discovered, sometimes talking with someone who is on a similar journey can help.
I just didn't want them to think that because their grief journey was different than mine, that it was wrong. Some of the things that I have been learning, and wholeheartedly agree with but sometimes find my soul forgetting, is that everyone's journey is different and that you're allowed to feel how you feel. Period.
So I thought I'd try to give an honest glimpse into what this journey has been like so far on the off chance that it could help someone else that is dealing with grief and struggling.
The first few weeks were a blur. Dad's death was completely unexpected. He went from being completely fine, having had same-day surgery to have his gallbladder removed and literal minutes from walking out the hospital door to go home, to sick, then non-responsive, then coding, in a matter of 15 minutes. I was alone with him in the room and witnessed it all, as well as the entire code.
Those images haunted me for weeks. I basically stopped sleeping, getting at the most 3 hours of fitful sleep per night, sometimes less. And it wasn't that I was just seeing it, I was reliving it. I was a wreck. I lost 8 lbs in the first week. We got through the service, though I'm not sure how. The amount of decisions to be made and stuff that has to be done between death and burial still amazes me.
I received my 3 days bereavement time from work (is that ever sufficient time? I can't imagine), plus a few additional days due to Memorial Day and a few vacation days that I took. I went back to work exactly two weeks to the day from when Dad died, one week after his funeral. I was a complete mess. Still not sleeping, I couldn't concentrate. I was still frequently tearful at random moments and having those "reliving" flashbacks throughout the day. I was only able to work 2.5 days, and spent much of that time in the bathroom crying or trying to just regain my composure. Thankfully, I was able to arrange appointments with both a grief and trauma therapist and also my family doctor.
Upon recommendation from them, I took medical leave. I also agreed to start taking some short term medication to help with the sleep and the anxiety/depression issues. These meds, coupled with weekly visits with the (wonderful) grief and trauma therapist, have been a signifcant help. The therapist uses a method called EMDR to help with the flashbacks. I had never heard of it, although others that I know have, but read good things about PTSD patients that had success with it. She told me in the beginning the goal was for me to be able to remember the events without reliving it. There is a significant difference between the two.
Things are improving now. It's been 6 weeks since Dad died. I am routinely getting 6 or so hours of sleep per night. The flashbacks spaced further and further apart and I am now at a point that I can simply remember the events without feeling like it is happening all over again. Days are still hard, but less overwhelming. I miss him desperately. My brain seems less focused on the day I lost him and now spends its time trying to understand that he's really gone and figure out what life will look like going forward. Still having tearful moments and can get caught off guard by weird things that cause unexpected grief.
And I'm taking baby steps to help improve my health and healing. Light exercise, rest, diversion activities, keeping hydrated, prayer, time in God's word, time in nature. Even though at times I have had to make myself do some of these, I know they are in my best interest.
I have been released to go back to work on Monday. I feel good about this and am feeling like I can actually go back and perform my job, which I'm sure my coworkers will be glad to hear. I spend much less time worry about how I'm supposed to be feeling and acting, and more time trying to work through my actual feelings. But those judgement thoughts still creep in occasionally. I try to be accepting of what I'm feeling and honor those needs. Not feeling like being in a crowd? I stay home, even if it means canceling plans. Being at home alone allowing too many difficult thoughts in? I go visit someone or run to the store, even if it means abandoning housework that I wanted to accomplish. Need a nap? Need to talk? Need to spend an hour playing solitaire on my phone? Then that's what I try to do. And I am blessed beyond belief to have a wonderful support network, including my amazingly patient and loving husband, to let me do what I need to do.
So if you're grieving, or know someone who is, I hope that you've heard my message. Everyone's journey is different. It doesn't matter if your loved one's death was expected or sudden, if you were close to them or your relationship was strained, if they've been gone a week or a year. You get to feel how you feel. Take care of yourself. Get support, in whatever form you need that to be.
And you can always call me. As I have discovered, sometimes talking with someone who is on a similar journey can help.
Friday, July 7, 2017
Every Picture Has A Story
They say that every picture has a story. Think of all of the photographs that we see every day. National media, local news, Facebook, Instagram and countless other social media outlets flood us daily with images. Some have captions to give a brief description of the main narrative of the event. Some are published without words, leaving the viewer to surmise the story solely on what they can see from that one brief capture of time.
Every picture has a story. Some tell many stories.
This photograph has many stories that aren't apparent on first glance. This shot could be captioned "Three generations enjoying a beautiful summer's evening." That is true, but it is not anywhere close to the full story, or even the most important story from the evening. But the important stories need to be shared, nonetheless. Because these are stories of healing and progress and love and small steps.
The day this picture was taken was a hard day, similar to the dozens of days before it. It was made harder by the fact that this was the day that I had to pick up the report of the autopsy that was performed on my father 5 weeks earlier. I had to sift through all of the medical jargon to find the words that would give me the answer to why my dad was suddenly gone from my life. The answer was there, and even though not a complete surprise, it still involved more processing from my tired brain and broken heart.
That evening as I walked up the steps to drop something off at the kid's house, they were heading out the door to go for a walk at the riverfront and take some pictures of River to document his 7th month. Being ever thoughtful of me, they invited me to come along, hoping that it would distract me for a bit. I hesitated. Was I up to it? It had been such a long, hard day. But they insisted and I made a choice. I knew there were things I needed to be doing to promote health and healing, such as exercise and getting out of the house, so I grabbed my keys and headed with them. Small steps.
It was a lovely night in Newburgh and as we walked and talked, I could feel the tension in my body easing. As we attempted to get a squirmy, inquisitive, never-still-for-a-minute 7 month old crazy boy to pose for a picture, and smile at the same time, I laughed and thanked God for the evening. Healing.
Then my daughter did a crazy thing. She suggested, no, insisted, that she and I join in the photo session. Of course, I immediately started in with a litany of reasons why I didn't want to be in the pictures. The top of these reasons was that I had been cleaning house all afternoon, was in grungy clothes, had not a drop of makeup on and my hair hadn't seen a brush since the very early morning hours. She stopped me before I could get the last words out by looking me straight in the eye, saying "Mom, we said we weren't going to do this. We were going to start being present in the pictures and in life and stop worrying if our hair is right or how we look in clothes. We are here, together. Let's do this." So we did. This was a big step for both of us. To put aside our constant self-consciousness and be present in the moment. Progress.
This will be a memory I will always hold. It was hilarious - remember, squirmy baby. It was refreshing - there were no bad memories or haunting reminders there, only nature and fresh air. It was full of love - them for me, mine for them. LOVE.
So, when I look at this picture, I don't see the disheveled grandmother with her daughter and grandson, captured at just the right moment. I see an evening where my healing began, where we chose to be present in life, where I was surrounded by love and blessings, where life was busy weaving it's many stories together in that one moment.
(And for your viewing entertainment, I am adding a few of the 3 million outtakes that my wonderful son (in-law) had to sift through.)
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