The One About Grief

I don’t want to write about grief. I want to write about food and projects and books I’ve been reading. But, here I am. I was awoken from a deep sleep, and know that I have no hope of going back unless I express these thoughts and feelings. So, here I am, for better or worse, raw, vulnerable, and unfiltered.

Frozen. That’s how I’ve felt for a while. Not fully feeling. Only doing what needs to be done, taking care of others, but unable to dip much into the creative current that usually lives right beneath my surface.

Surface. That might be the key. Things on the surface are held together. Just under, that’s where the energy and feelings and drive are supposed to flow – but there’s not much flow. Rather, it’s all sludgy and frozen. Deeper still though, protecting my heart from this chill, is the cocoon of the Holy Spirit. Holding me all together, keeping it all from cracking and breaking, until the thaw.

Thawing. Lately, slowly, I’ve felt some thawing. Feeling the thaw can feel exhilarating, but it also brings pain, and pain doesn’t fit well into daily life. I notice myself freezing back up instead of allowing the pain to flow. It never hits at appropriate times – PTO meetings, trips to Target, closing songs at a church service. There is no sitting still in the pain, that’s not how it works. Either it sweeps you up in the current and you experience wherever it takes you, or, you take control of it and shut it down, freezing it back in place. What a hard cycle. Either feeling nothing or feeling too much.

I get the sense that this is the natural way of things. Sort of like how your body slows down non-vital organs when there has been trauma – keep the main stuff going while everything gets a Hail Mary chance to heal. That doesn’t mean I like it. I’m a feeler and a doer. Frozen doesn’t feel like me, and I really just want to be me again..

Gracious, this is yucky stuff. I will probably regret this post the minute it is published. But, I know I’m not the only one – and I want others to not feel alone. The world keeps moving, but grief freezes you. You get tired of being the friend who brings the group down, so you quit sharing. It’s hard. We’re told it gets better.

Even here though, there is hope. There has always been hope. I can testify that I have never felt alone. The hymn says “Jesus is the sweetest name I know”. When there are no other words or utterances, His name remains. He never leaves us. He understands. He knows the whole picture. His love is there, even when I’m frozen.

Please don’t read this thinking that I’ve been miserable every day for the past year and a half. I have experienced much joy, and I can see how blessed I am. My life has so much beauty in it, and I have the best little nest of a family a woman could want. I guess I just want us all to be reminded that we forget what is going on beneath the surface of those we encounter – no matter if they seem to have it all together or look like a hot mess. We need to love each other well and slow down long enough to be kind.

Love to you all,

Devin