I’m not sure if I should set up this blog this way, but what I’m trying to do is write as frequently as is helpful, but not so often that I burn out and start to spiral [ask me how I know about spiraling]. So, maybe the best thing is to write when I can and then schedule the post for a future date. I’ll let you know if/how this all works. What I’m trying to say is, the post I publish might not be a post I wrote THAT DAY, but rather the day I had the time and the emotional energy for writing. [Would you believe, reading this, that I actually have a background in clear, concise broadcast writing? I do, though!]
I have a midterm this week. I don’t want to do it. It’s in a class that I don’t enjoy, with a lot of ideas I find uncompelling and irritating. HOWEVER, like an adult, I shall take the test after I write this and cram-study some more.
Today I’m okay. There’s a lot that goes into okay days. I don’t know, from day to day, how I’ll be; I don’t know why I’m okay some days and not others. Sometimes it feels like I have very little control over what a day will be like. [Maybe I do, maybe I don’t, I don’t know.] I’m not on antidepressants, so pharmaceuticals aren’t a variable.
[A note on antidepressants: I’m not a doctor, and this blog is NOT MEDICAL ADVICE. But if you feel like you need antidepressants, that doesn’t mean you’re weak or defective or not “handling” your grief. You and your doctor are the ones qualified to decide what you need.]
As I type this, we’re less than a week away from the second anniversary of Faith’s death. I’m hoping that the headstone we ordered for her and Elijah can be installed before the anniversary, so maybe I’ll have a photo to share sometime soon. We go up to the grave for their birthdays and Christmas. My husband doesn’t see the point of going, but he knows it comforts me and he supports whatever I want to do on anniversaries. A headstone for a birthday–what an awful present/milestone. Good God, even on my okay days that’s a hideous thought.
[A note on swearing: I’m not trying to take God’s name in vain, as it says in the commandment. Sometimes, the depth of feeling is such that God’s involvement in that moment is the holiest thing I can think of. I’m not trying to offend.
HOWEVER, I spent 6+ years in the Air Force, and my vocabulary might be startling if you were expecting the sweet little homeschooler I was raised to be. If swear words offend you, I’m sorry, and I ask your grace and forgiveness ahead of time. I will still swear, probably. Sometimes, the depth of feeling demands more articulation than I know words for.]
If you’re thinking, Rebecca, how many notes of your personal opinion will be featured in your posts? the answer is, many. [Too many?]
I have as many opinions as I have visible forehead wrinkles [at least three].
Today I am okay. It’s been nearly two whole years since I have been completely happy. That’s such a hard thought. My grief counselor reminded me that I DID have problems and frustrations two years ago, and she’s right; I just don’t even think about those anymore because they seem so trivial now. I was, on the whole, REALLY happy. Now I’m…not, really. I mean there are good days now, when for a long time there weren’t, so I’m grateful for that. I just miss the days when I didn’t know how much life could hurt.
If you’re here with me, I’m so sorry. Life can be a real bitch. Nothing you said or did brought this down on you, I promise. We were the best moms we could be, and it’s not fair our babies are gone. IT’S NOT FAIR. Nothing will ever make it fair. There is no reason for my losses that will ever make them okay to me. Even if, God forgive me, somehow thousands of people would be saved because of my loss, that doesn’t mean I would say “yeah, okay, fair trade,” because I won’t. I just won’t. There’s no reason on this earth, EVER, where losing my babies will feel okay or justified or necessary. Maybe someday, when I get to heaven. Not today, not even on my okayest day.
And that’s okay. I have to believe that God knows that some wounds won’t heal on earth, and he doesn’t expect me to be okay. I don’t want to be angry with him, and some days are better than others on that score, but I have to believe that he can take my anger too.
Look, I’m going to be honest: these last two years have been the hardest I’ve ever had. My faith has suffered immensely. I’ve had to decide what and who I believe. Some days, I have a clear vision of who God is and who I am to him; other days, I laugh at myself for ever believing God loved me. He says his power is made perfect in my weakness; boy, do I have a lot of weakness. [A LOT, so much, literally gobs of weakness.] I have literally nothing to offer him, and I’m hoping he can understand that and love me anyway.
However you feel about God [or don’t feel], I hope you have an okay day today. If you can’t have an okay day, that’s okay too. Have a bad day. Do what you need to do, feel what you need to feel. Be honest with yourself and the people you trust during this grief journey. Take care of yourself.