Light For Our Dark Places

Things we wonder, in our heads, but may never say out loud.

I'll never get it right. I failed at this.... I am not succeeding at that. I will always be alone. I'm dumb. I am unlovable. I could have done better, I should have done better. I'm not smart enough. I'm afraid. No one will love me. C'mon people. I can't be the only one who has mental tapes that play like this. Maybe your tape says you are too fat, or too tall, or not pretty enough. Maybe yours is a dialog of comparison, they are more, have more, their life is perfect. 

These are uncomfortable feelings. Feelings that we define ourselves by. Sometimes deliberately sometimes subconsciously. So remember, a feeling is not a fact. We get tripped up by that. I know by opening up this conversation that I'm going out on a limb. It's a vulnerable limb. I'm hanging in the balance here. Will I hold on to these fallacies. Will I be dismissed because I'm sharing them? Will I reduce the scope of my world by holding on to them? Will I be judged by them. Which leads me to this question, who is the harsher judge? Kinda thinking it is me. It is way easier to blame myself, berate myself. Okay, in simpler terms, I'm pretty hard on myself. Are you?

Funny, sad funny, not ha-ha funny how much easier it is to tally what we didn't get right instead of what we did. What we aren't instead of what we are. What we haven't got instead of what we have. Do I know an easy path to heal all of this? Ummm, no easy path, but not an impossible task. All I can figure is I've been gifted with these words so I can share them. Share the feelings, share the faith, share being open to shedding light on our inner struggles. Giving some light to our dark places. 

We all have some dark places, am I right? We are not singularly flawed. That's the good news. Opening up and peering into our "flaw" box is humbling, and healing. Scary as hell too, so we resist doing it. But, what if I'm not all wrong? What if I get it right some of the time, and because I'm human I get it wrong some of the time. Could that be okay? What if I'm not bad, or stupid, or worthless, but someone told me I was so I believed it. What if I have a voice, but was shamed into not using it. What if I breathed out instead of holding it all in. That would be a weight off my shoulders. What if I am enough just the way I am? Wise enough, capable enough, safe enough, strong enough. Could that be my truth? That friends, that is the seed to plant, to nurture, to bring into the light. Trusting we find new light for our dark places.

 

Ask For Help, Get The Ice Cream

I've realized grief comes in more shades than there are paint chips at Sherwin Williams. Grace does too. I had an emotional day recently, which triggered some grief. Each time through a wave of grief I am moved further down the road to a softer place. That doesn't negate the pain of getting through it.

I had some dental work done the other day. There was pain in the beginning of the procedure, but after that part there was no physical pain involved. I was taken back at how emotionally uncomfortable the process was. How anxiety filled. I knew I could get through it because I told myself in my head (at least a 100 times) I can do this, I can do this, I can do this. It did not occur to me to stop and ask for help "doing this" making the procedure less stressful. That's an important lesson. Ask for help when you need it. I didn't need to suffer through it and yet I did.  

So naturally following the procedure I was a bit emotional. Okay, so saying I'm "a bit emotional" is always a stretch of imagination. Here's your visual, emotionally charged woman, with half her face completely numb. Wanting ice cream to comfort the stress, but knowing she doesn't have enough lip control to manage consuming it. Again, I could have gotten some for later when my lips came back. Again, I went without when I didn't actually need to. Raising hand....slow learner here.

I pull up to a stop light and am sitting behind the vehicle of a company that does damage restoration, including trauma clean up. It takes me right back. This same company did the trauma clean up after my husband took his life. This time seeing the company name tapped into the loss and pain. Now I dealt with this company as they did restoration work in my home. I've seen their vehicles many times since then with no emotional response. But this day I had emotions that needed to be cried through. This day I was in a place I could do that. We can't process all of a loss at once, that's why grieving is a long process. As we are ready, life presents the situations that draw us through grief to the other side. These hurdles have to be crossed. They can however be shared, either during, or afterwards. While we may feel pain, discomfort, anxiety we don't have to suffer alone. We can ask for the help/comfort to get through it and we can have the ice cream afterwards. Be gentle with yourself, ask for help, get the ice cream. Heal.

Wishing you this.

Somehow, we have moved through another entire year. How well did we move? Was it with peace, with anxiety, with anger, with joy. Did we move with hope? Did we move forward or back, or some of each? Was it full of grief? Was it grueling and yet filled with grace? Was it scary? Did we dance, did we laugh, did we move faith forward? 

It was a year of so much change in my life. I never do things in a small way. Although my desire is to tip-toe gently in, often I find I jump in and then wade through the fallout. Finding our way is like that. Fallout is a necessary part of life. Living is necessary for fallout. You can't have one without the other. 

Accept a new job I thought, pull up roots I thought. I am ready for this I thought. Let go of all that is familiar and start again.  Discover all the changes you asked for are harder in more ways than you could ever have imagined. Grieve deeply for the past. Grieve deeply for a place that was a beloved home for many years. Grieve the life changes that made all of this come to fruition. Pack up and move twice in six months. That was a beast of an endeavor. But you know what feels like home and what doesn't. If you have to move more than once to find it do so. Then thank those who helped you repeatedly make it happen.

It's been a year of uncertainty, and of discovery. What would I do different? I'd reach out sooner for help when I needed it. Sometimes we are slow learners. I'd lean in closer to the love available. I'd let go of anxiety and breathe in certainty. I'd trust deeply that my needs will be met. After all, doesn't the big guy upstairs promise me that?  I don't have to do life by myself. I'd trust more, worry less. I'd understand mistakes are simply human moments  and stepping stones for growth. I'd be gentle with myself. I'd accept that other people don't have to like me, but I do. I'd cry a lot, maybe more, if possible. Crying is cleansing and healing. I'd anticipate good things.

I walked the dogs daily, beginning mid-March, and have only missed three days. Not going the count the number of poop bags I used, but can I just say Layla donates regularly on our walks. That's a personal record for consistent exercise for me. Granted we use the stop and sniff method. For the dogs stopping to use their nose is an important part of the process. I particularly like when this happens on big hills. I reached out to others who walk the path of survivors of suicide loss. I hope my experience and encouragement finds its way to those struggling.  I helped Hobbs gently cross the bridge when it was time. I helped Gunther through a couple of health issues.  And this, this is a big one...I didn't give up. Lord knows how much I wanted to give up.

So here I am at years end. Weary, grateful, stronger, wiser, softer. I have a much deeper understanding of our need for connection. So I wish you these same things...loving connections, strength, gratitude, growth. May the path be easy, and if not, may it be traveled with faith, family and good friends. That's who and what gets us through the hard parts. That's who laughs with us at the absurdities of life. That's who celebrate's the victories big and small. That's who wipes the tears and gives us courage to move forward again. Wishing you this, so much of this.

This And That

It is completely okay, to not feel the Jolly in the Holly Jolly. To not feel the Merry in the Merry Christmas. To only feel the la-la-la, in the Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la. 

It is part and parcel of life to be completely blessed and still feel sad, or lonely, or any of your other very valid feelings. This has been such a grieving season for all of us. Loss of our sense of normalcy, as well as other losses in life. Some losses we see coming, and can understand to some degree. Some losses will surface, and resurface and never make any sense at all. 

There are times we may think, I 'should' be happy because I have this, this, and this. The have's don't always zero out the haven'ts. Truthfully, some people only dream of the lives we have. The jobs we have, the roof over our heads, the food in our pantry. Some of this reads contradictory. We are blessed, we are blessed beyond belief. And, we have losses to grieve and sorrows to bear. We can feel joy and anticipation one moment, sadness and heartache the next. The common denominator? We feel.

Whatever you are feeling in this season of life, this season of the year, it's valid. And, you are valuable. Feel it, bless the feeling and release it. Because it's okay to be both this and that. 

In The Midst...

I make it a point to sit in my little family room to eat dinner. It is one of the few moments daily that I slow down, am fully present and enjoy. I also do that so I am eating at a table without clutter, without technology (although sometimes I cheat on that), even without a book. Sometimes I struggle with finding the joy in eating alone. But today, as I looked around this little room, I discovered something very important.

In this little room with brick walls and a wood burning stove, hang antlers from the deer my Dad shot many moons ago. There is the Christmas tree with the first ornaments I bought as a newlywed in 1980. There is the ornament I crocheted when I was pregnant in 1983. There is a mistletoe ornament. One doesn't take chances missing out on kisses under the mistletoe. But there is more. There is a board salvaged from the junk pile behind a flower shop I managed. It's been repurposed into a sign that says Together Is A Wonderful Place To Be on one side, and Believe on the other. Painted with love by a friend I had the privilege of working with. There is a old barn door I bought with another flower shop friend at a one-of-a kind sale. One of us was going home with that door, I was the lucky one. There is the collage of pictures from my rural home of sunsets, storm clouds and the creek. There is the winter picture painted in a class with the women's group from my little village of 42. It says All Is Calm, All Is Bright. Nothing in my life was calm or bright at that time. There are pointer pictures I collected over the years, finally hung in a gallery setting. There is the metal pointer silhouette gifted from a friend in Canada. There is the perfect chair I found at the GoodWill, because I am a thrift store kinda gal. There is so much past and present in that room. So many answered prayers. So many memories of life, family/friends and love.

I discovered I am not alone at all in that room. In the midst of all the busyness. In the midst of viruses, fear, stress and worry. In the midst of lost dreams and answered prayers I am surrounded by love. In the midst of this season of life, whatever it consists of, may you be surrounded by love. May you Believe. Look past the messes, the challenges, and see the blessings. The truth is that you are not alone. And...You are oh so loved.

Changed But Not Diminished

As a survivor, of any sort of trauma, each new life experience is filtered through the "if this hadn't occurred, I wouldn't be right here, right now". Even the really good stuff is shadowed by the knowledge that bad things happened propelling that person on to a new life. One didn't happen without the other. 

The same applies at the other end of the spectrum, really terrific things also lead you to places and experiences that wouldn't have come to pass without them. Life is complex.

I just want to share that I am a bit frayed around the edges. Have been for some time now. Scarred, altered, battered if you will. I am also softened, stronger and more me than I ever was. Things don't have to be pretty to be beautiful. Things can be raw and rugged and be entirely blessed beyond measure. 

We're entering the holiday season a bit bruised and tattered. It's been a hard year. It continues to be a hard year. We have been challenged. We have been stressed. Life does not look like life as we knew it. We've had losses, and we grieve them. We will always grieve them. We've scaled back, hopefully, to the essence of what we truly value. Finding at the heart of it what carries us through, what we hold dear, what matters.

 

But this, this says it all for me. Now truth be told, long long ago one of the dogs got a hold of this ornament and gnawed on it. It was altered, it was traumatized, it was changed. Little did I know how symbolic this would be. All I knew back then was that it was still beautiful in my eyes. I loved the dog, I loved the ornament, I forgave the dog, I kept the ornament.

The message is the same whether it's on spun gold or chewed wood. Personally, I'll take the chewed wood. We kind of resemble that this year, I know I do. A little worse for the wear, but His light and love shines through. Changed by our circumstances, but because of our faith, not diminished by them. 

Finding gratitude and joy, on a holiday week, in a pandemic.

Holiday weeks can be hard. For the grieving, or the lonely. Or the lonely and grieving. For those whose family is far away, sometimes even for those whose family is in the same room. Then add in all the stress of the pandemic.

So, how to find the grace in a situation we never saw coming, and won't see leaving soon. Perhaps, I have an advantage of some sort having experienced an unexpected tragedy that will always affect me. There aren't many wins that came from that loss. However, if I dig deep I can find a few things that would never have evolved without the loss. Things that brought growth, compassion, understanding.

We are facing a week normally full of family, feasting, football, and other festivities. This year we face uncertainty through a face mask, and may likely spend more time with hand sanitizer than family. It's not what we want, it's not what we ever expected, it's not going away soon. It's tragic. 

So we will have a lot of feelings this week. Sadness, loss, fear, uncertainty, worry, and many others. We will be challenged to connect in different ways to embrace the thanks we are usually giving this week. There are still many things to be grateful for. Even in the midst of worry, we can slow down and find blessings. I'm not saying it will be easy. I'm just saying it can be done. Holidays are always poignant reminders, full stop. Whatever your reminders are, know you are not alone. 

If you are struggling let someone know. If you have gifts of encouragement or service, offer them. If you are in need, ask. If you can, pray. If you can put your wants and desires aside for the health and safety of others do so. Do not, however, forget to find ways to celebrate, to connect, to give and to give thanks. This season of life may not look anything like you want it to. It may suck beyond belief, it may seem never ending. It won't always be like this, keep the faith, trust there is a bigger plan and know, know you aren't alone. Know it's okay to give thanks in all circumstances, in fact it's recommended.