I'm still afraid of loss. There I said it. I still think someone else will leave and never come back. It's no wonder my kids have thought it. Even though I don't tell them when I'm feeling anxious they feel it. They sense it when I say things, when I get antsy. Oh how I hate the feeling that things are going well so...when's it gonna happen?
The next thing.
The next heartache.
The next December 19th.
The day that seems so long ago but like yesterday at the same time.
Y'all I think the waves of grief still come at the weirdest times. It shows up in my fear of loss. It fuels my fear of the unknown. It cripples the strength I've grown to depend on in my own heart. Before I know it I'm paralyzed again. All over again. The excitement over a new thing is squashed by the fear of it going away. No enjoying the moment, just waiting for the moment to pass. The walls go up to protect myself and before I know it I've caused the joy to cease. Because where there's joy there's potential for sorrow, right?
It's not normal. My brain, I mean.
And I'm tired of it. So tired of it.
It seems, though, that it's a common thread with grief-stricken people. They feel crazy . They feel like the world is moving on and they are stuck in some in-between place, where they feel numb and scared. They step ahead out of the fog and get a taste of hope-could be the smallest thing--and then retreat back to the known, even though they hate it there. It's just that there are no surprises and for some reason that's more comforting than trying something that yes, can bring great hope and joy. You know way? We are afraid of the depth of pain there can be. We've seen it. Known it. And something deep inside says, "Nope, not worth it."
Some people live this way for the rest of their lives. I can't really blame them. I've done it on and off too. You just try to survive. Surviving doesn't involve risk and being able to grasp the reward. It just sees the darkness that could, at any point, come back. And nobody wants to go back there.
Does this make any sense? Maybe it doesn't have to. Maybe I just needed to write it.
Tonight Emmy, (my sister if you're new here,) came over to play with the kids and we went on a walk. Halfway through, (almost exactly,) Joy started whining. Charlie never missed a beat-she walked over and said, "Joy are you too tired? Come here I'll carry you home."
I told Charlie that I thought it was really sweet that she helps tend to Joy to help Mommy, (they're 17 months apart,) and she smiled and said, "That's my job Mom we are a family."
And my eyes filled with tears.
Sometimes I fear I've burdened them too much with helping me or "taking it for the team" when they all have to go somewhere with me. In truth though it's only showing them that they are capable of helping other people and on some level I hope it's helping them be less selfish. I'm selfish and want them to be less selfish than I am :)
Anyway, on the walk today my heart was so happy to see us taking care of each other even in that small way. It somehow was what I needed to see to remind me that if we keep on trucking relief will come. It always does.
Thank You Lord for days like today where I see progress and even a little fearlessness. Remind me constantly that You've got my back and there's nothing to be afraid of.