I miss the simplicity of life. For a while there simplicity included being married, sharing the day in and day out. Having someone listen, to laugh with, to love. Not to glamorize it, because there were challenges and days of struggle. In the end nothing was simple, and I struggle with the complexity of the outcome.
I'm having trouble finding the beauty of the "here" in my life. Finding some routine that isn't filled with anxiety. Some comfort in the midst of massive change. I miss knowing where I belong, being able to recognize where home is and what it looks like. I miss being connected. My "people" were just a phone call a way. I know my "people" are still just a phone call away, but I deeply grieve the losses, the changes, the huge shift in the landscape of my life.
I don't do well with isolation. Life as a survivor of suicide loss is fraught with isolation. Some of it due to stigma, some to being/feeling different than others because of your experience. Some due to the very nature of tragic loss. Some of it is the self being afraid to be open and trust again. Yet, my soul longs for connection. I know I made changes in my life with solid logic. Then the whole balance of the world tilted with the pandemic. I rather thought I was moving toward more connection, more social opportunities, more belonging. I am not where I fit before, and haven't established how I fit in where I am now. And....it's lonely.
I've been gently reminded of other times in my life when there was great change. Where my center of balance was challenged. Of how I survived them, found joy in the process, and a multitude of blessings along the way. The Lauren Daigle song, Look Up Child hits home. "Where are you now when darkness seems to win. Where you now, when the world is crumbling. I hear you say, I hear you say, I hear you say look up child." Sound advice (no pun intended) and an affirmation of faith. Plus a little musical styling while we look up can't hurt either. So...Look Up Child, Look Up Child.
Wednesday, May 20, 2020
Saturday, May 2, 2020
Wrestling and Releasing
I'm wrestling these days with how to move forward in life when I keep missing my past life. How does one do that? How do you release one to embrace the other. One would think I'd know how since I've made some serious life changes in the last three months. Let me own this, I feel clueless. I wonder if I'm where I'm supposed to be. I wonder if I'm answering my calling. So if you ever wonder that same thing, please know you are not alone. All I know is change is hard, so very hard.
I recognize too, that my past life had struggles too. Yet, they were familiar struggles in a place that was home. At present, I have unfamiliar struggles in an unfamiliar place that doesn't feel like home. It's kinda an icky place to be in. Intellectually I know this is temporary. I wish my intellect and my emotions would have a come to Jesus moment and get on the same page. They are miles apart.
I feel kinda lost and alone. I feel uncertain. I feel like there is more unknown than known in my life. I know that sounds full of drama. I try to hold fast to verses of comfort and encouragement...be still and know....be not afraid...ask and you shall receive. Still this is a time of great adjustment, great transition, great growth.
Wouldn't it be nice to know all the answers? Maybe, maybe not. Wouldn't it be nice to know how it will all unfold. Wouldn't it be nice to know this desert-like period will yield green pastures? Yes, yes it would. Oh Lordy, yes it would.
All this calls upon faith for the journey, trust in the process. And yes, it's hard. I've gotten a lot of practice at hard. Frankly, I'm sick of the hard stuff. Part of moving through this is breaking it down into small pieces, taking it one day at a time. I have to change my thought process from when will this end, when will I find comfort, to being open to each day's beauty and understanding tomorrow is another day. I only have to do today today. I only have to feel what I feel right now, own it and release it. I do have to breathe. I do have to let go and let God. And...then...having done all this I shall rest.
I recognize too, that my past life had struggles too. Yet, they were familiar struggles in a place that was home. At present, I have unfamiliar struggles in an unfamiliar place that doesn't feel like home. It's kinda an icky place to be in. Intellectually I know this is temporary. I wish my intellect and my emotions would have a come to Jesus moment and get on the same page. They are miles apart.
I feel kinda lost and alone. I feel uncertain. I feel like there is more unknown than known in my life. I know that sounds full of drama. I try to hold fast to verses of comfort and encouragement...be still and know....be not afraid...ask and you shall receive. Still this is a time of great adjustment, great transition, great growth.
Wouldn't it be nice to know all the answers? Maybe, maybe not. Wouldn't it be nice to know how it will all unfold. Wouldn't it be nice to know this desert-like period will yield green pastures? Yes, yes it would. Oh Lordy, yes it would.
All this calls upon faith for the journey, trust in the process. And yes, it's hard. I've gotten a lot of practice at hard. Frankly, I'm sick of the hard stuff. Part of moving through this is breaking it down into small pieces, taking it one day at a time. I have to change my thought process from when will this end, when will I find comfort, to being open to each day's beauty and understanding tomorrow is another day. I only have to do today today. I only have to feel what I feel right now, own it and release it. I do have to breathe. I do have to let go and let God. And...then...having done all this I shall rest.
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