*I wrote this two years ago. I think it bears repeating with the holidays approaching.*
The Ugly Side of Grief
Remember when you and I first started this journey? I told you I would speak from my heart. I would speak my truth as it is in the moment. I would tell you what it’s like to walk this path and I told you that sometimes it wouldn’t be pretty. Remember that? Well, I’m writing this at midnight and tonight is one of those nights that’s just not pretty.
I woke up with a migraine Wednesday morning and didn’t take the time to take care of myself as I would normally. My aunt had a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon so we were gone for several hours. (I’ve managed to get 2.2 pounds on her tiny little frame by adding cream and cheese and eggs to a lot of her foods. That’s a relief.) We got home and I fixed her supper. I really couldn’t eat much and I went straight to bed. I slept a couple of hours and woke up. And the second phase of my migraine kicked in….GI symptoms.
Grief is hard work. Being sick is hard work. Being sick and grieving and feeling anxiety build up in you and knowing the only thing you can do is use Rescue Remedy and ride it out till morning? That’s brutal. That opens all sorts of doors to thoughts better left for the light of day. When will this ever be over? Why did he have to die on me so soon? How am I ever going to find the strength to get through this? Is this what the rest of my life is going to look like? I’ve taken on a huge responsibility with my aunt’s care. Have I bit off more than I can chew? Am I strong enough to get through this?
That last question is the crux of the whole thing…am I strong enough to do this? If you look at my frail little human self with my fears and my anxieties and my grief, the answer is an unequivocal “No…..not on my own.” I could not have gotten where I am today if it weren’t for my faith in a God much stronger than me. A God that will gladly carry every burden I have if I’ll just remember to turn to Him and ask Him to carry them. I couldn’t have made it this far without the countless prayers that have been offered up on my behalf. I hate the ugly underbelly of grief. The doubt and fear it stirs up in me scares me. And when I get scared, it’s easy to go running down the dark corridors of my 2:00 mind, jiggling door knobs, frantically looking for a way out of this purgatory.
My rational 8:00 mind will return after while. I’ll get up and have coffee and the night will fade into memories of the many long nights of survival. And, until then, I will lay here in my comfy bed in my cold camper with my toasty electric blanket turned on high, and I will visualize sitting at the feet of God, my head on His knee, His hand stroking my brow, His love for me overflowing, His strength pouring into me, His gentle words of encouragement whispered into my ear. “It’s ok, baby girl. You fight hard and you get tired. You just rest in Me. I’ll take care of you tonight and tomorrow things will look a whole lot different…you’ll see. Trust Me.”
❤️
“The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.” Psalm 18:2 NIV