It's been a couple months. It hasn't been an easy couple of months. There have been a number of funerals in my congregation. My birthday was in there. First birthday since my dad passed. I kept waiting for him to call. It was one of the things I could always count on on my birthday. I would get another year older and my dad would call. Obviously, he didn't call. I did ok until the day was almost over and it really sunk in that there wouldn't be a call. At that point I was not ok. My heart hurt... a lot. I felt cheated. I wanted to yell and scream. I wanted to cry. Instead, I was quiet. I was not ok with being not ok. It's hard to be not ok because there are a lot of expectations out there. I came up with all sort of reasons as to why I shouldn't be not ok. I didn't want to upset Lucas. I didn't want to cry because when I do, it's ugly crying... I mean, it's not pretty. It seemed like I shouldn't cry because that's not what my dad would want. The list went on. The end result was that I convinced myself I was ok even when I wasn't. Christmas was in there too. That is naturally a really busy time for our family. Two pastors. Multiple big services. Preparation. Nerves. On top of that, this was the first Christmas Lucas was really excited about it. He had been really looking forward to all of it and for pastors kids Christmas can be... different. We "put out" cookies and milk at 2 in the afternoon on Christmas eve because mommy and daddy would be gone until late that night. A dear babysitter put him to bed on an exciting night. A lot of people time for this introvert and being awake 2-3 hours past bedtime. It was a really, really chill day. Didn't make it to see my family. We needed Christmas to be our little family and then my mom had to go right back to work after Christmas so it was a phone greeting. I missed my dad, mom, uncle, nephew, sisters... I just wanted to go and get a hug from my mom and listen to stories about my nephew's senior year. I wasn't ok... but again I convinced myself that it was important I be ok. Before Christmas and before my birthday was Thanksgiving. We were supposed to go see my family for Thanksgiving and have dinner with my mom, uncle, nephew and sister and niece and nephew. I was really looking forward to it. It was going to be the first time I saw them since we had the visitation for my dad. I was beginning to feel like I could breathe again. Until then I had almost felt like I had been holding my breath. Trying to get through the next thing and the next. As happens in life another saint from my church passed away and the funeral was right after Thanksgiving. I needed to be there for my church family. Which meant I didn't see my blood family. It was a hello and happy thanksgiving over the phone with the promise that I would see them soon. David, Lucas and I still celebrated together, but at least part of the day was dedicated to preparing to remember the life of a church family member who had passed to the church triumphant. My heart ached. I kept my breath held and told myself it would be ok. After all, this was only the first time plans with my family had been canceled. There was still plenty of time left in the year... I told myself I was ok. I wasn't. Then, one day shortly after that, I had my Spotify playlist on when I was taking a shower, as I normally do. I had just added some songs onto it and hadn't really thought too much about this. When, what felt out like out of nowhere, the song "Drink a Beer" (www.youtube.com/watch?v=RM5aW83L_DE) comes on and I find myself sobbing in the shower. That song makes me think of my dad so much. If my dad was turned into a song, I think it would be that song. I calmed down and convinced myself, once more, that I was ok. You see, I still hadn't really had a big cry or "breakdown" since my dad passed. I kept finding reasons that I shouldn't... Then David and I were watching the show "The Ranch." So, if my dad were a show, it would be that one. But, of course, I didn't think of that. I just thought it was nice to see it back. When at the end of a particularly fraught episode with reconciliation, healing, and a dad's life saved... I found myself, well, as I put it "over-reacting crying" or as David would say "grieving." This shook me up. I was ok. I had convinced myself that I was ok... But clearly my reaction to this show told me I was not ok. I went to see my therapist and told her about this. I told her how ridiculous it was that I had such an emotional reaction to a TV SHOW for Pete's sake. It was a show... it was a song... (I swear, I have gone to school to be a pastor, I have taken courses in grief and emotional baggage and such) But when you're in the midst of your own grief sometimes you don't remember your training. See, I would tell anyone else that it was completely ok to cry. It was a normal part of the grieving process and everyone grieves differently. There is nothing shameful in crying. There's nothing weak about missing a loved one. I know all of this. I believe this. When my son comes to me crying I don't tell him to "man up" or "stop crying." I comfort him, I tell him it's ok to be sad. I want him to be able to have a healthy emotional spectrum... After going over all this with my therapist she then asked me why I didn't show myself this same grace. I bet you can guess, I didn't have a good answer for that. My directions following that session were to let myself realize that it was ok to not be ok and to allow myself the freedom and grace to experience my emotions... Well, as you've read, I didn't really do so well with this. Here I was... not ok, but convincing myself that I was ok... And beating myself up because I wasn't ok but I wanted to be... beating myself up because I was failing at doing what my therapist tasked me with... at least allowing myself to acknowledge and feel what I was feeling. As a perfectionist who has a tendency toward people pleasing... I was kind of more of a mess. Interspersed in all of this was our continuation of working on our adoption paperwork and profile. That is a whole 'nother blog post though. Just know that it was not my favorite thing ever. My grief only intensified over the months... We lost quite a few dear saints from my church. These were people who were close to my heart and the heart of my congregation. Some were expected, others not so much. They all tore at my heart a little more. I was honored to walk with their families through this process. Yet, I wasn't allowing myself the chance to go through it. Something had to change. Because now, getting out of bed each day was becoming harder, a little bonus treat from my depression. The circles under my eyes seemed like they were getting worse and worse. My eating habits took an absolute dive-bomb as I ate every feeling that came through my life. Which means I felt even worse since what I was putting in my body wasn't helping me to feel good. I was sleeping but not well. I was waking up unrested. I would get to the end of a day and be exhausted to my bones. Many nights I fell asleep in my chair and David would have to wake me up to go to bed, so I was missing that important time with my husband. I looked in the mirror and I hated what I saw. I wasn't ok. I really, really wasn't ok. I was at a point that my pain felt palpable. I needed to grieve. I needed to be sad. I needed to be ok with not being ok. And I needed to let grace win. It's not as easy as it sounds, my friends. It was hard. It was a fight. There was a lot of retraining my brain in how I understood my own emotions. I didn't get it right the first time most of the time... I didn't even get it right the second or third times. Thankfully, I have an amazing partner in David, a partner who kept reminding me that I was in a safe place to be not ok. A partner who smiled gently when I fought against the grief that was washing over me. A partner who showed me grace, over and over again, letting it be ok for me not to be ok.
And then I re-read one of my absolute favorite quotes: "Life is amazing. And then it's awful. And then it's amazing again. And in between the amazing and awful it's ordinary and mundane and routine. Breathe in the amazing, hold on through the awful, and relax and exhale during the ordinary. That's just living the heartbreaking, soul-healing, amazing, awful, ordinary life. And it's breathtakingly beautiful." - L.R. Knost I read that and it was like all at once that breath that I had been holding whooshed out of me. I was lightheaded for a moment and then I breathed in and back out and all that I had been holding for months came out. It was ugly and it was terrible and it was beautiful and it was real. It was cathartic. I want to say that it was the moment that "fixed" me. That made me completely and irrevocably ok with not being ok. It wasn't. It has helped. David has helped. The grace of my congregation has helped. The love of my God has helped. But I'm far from having this done pat and I'm not close to perfect. But, that's part of this beautiful, ridiculous, heartbreaking life. It's ok to not be perfect. It's ok to mess up. And it's ok to not be ok. One day I'll fully live into this... but for now... I continue to gracefully stumble through this life, trusting in the mercy of God and the love of family and friends.
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AuthorI've been Robyn for my whole life. I've been a wife for 10 years and a mom for 5 years. I've been a pastor for about 10 years. I'm still stumbling, but I'm still standing. Archives
April 2019
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