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Stages

IMG_1249Looking back over the last twenty-one months I realize I have passed through many stages (written August 2015).

Detachment:  This bizarre experience of living in the moment, fully aware of every single detail—the losses, the precariousness of Gracen’s future—the people around me, their words, my responses and this awareness that my emotions had been somehow blunted from all of it. It was good—it was horribly bad—it allowed me to function but left me fearful on an entirely new level. What kind of person—what kind of mother responds this way?

Exhaustion:  Mental, physical, emotional and spiritual exhaustion. Catching  myself thinking, “I’m just so very tired.” repeatedly throughout the day. Even following a good night’s sleep, “I’m so very tired” echoed through my mind. “So tired.” And there are still days like this; days where physical fatigue has little to do with this blanket of exhaustion that near suffocates me at times.

Brokenness:  Not just broken but utterly, completely shattered. So broken that healing is beyond comprehension. And yes, that thought, “I’m just so broken” flitting through my mind repeatedly, day after day.

Anger:  At a lack of justice—at missing out on Bethany & Katie’s lives, their futures—at Gracen’s failing health—at ruined credit—at the flashbacks that plague me—the pervasive apathy that steals my motivation and overcomes my will power—and on it goes.

Fear:  Okay, terror—for the future—of my Savior—of His plans.  Steeped in anxiety. Fighting off panic. Waiting for the next blow. Anticipating the next loss.

Resistance:  To moving forward. I can’t go back but don’t make me imagine a future void of all I planned for my life. I can’t go there. I just can’t go there. I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to live in bitterness and loss, yet can’t imagine a future different than I’d planned and dreamed of. Can’t even imagine an alternative that holds any appeal.

Resignation:  No way to change it—certainly no way to fix it—no way to make it better—hands tied—unpalatable choices—acceptance—bitterness—deep, desperate sorrow.

Lost:  So very, very lost.

Death Wish:  Oh, to fall asleep and never awaken! No more churning thoughts. No more disappointment. No more fear. No more sorrow. Just blessed silence and oblivion. Sweet, sweet nothingness.

Purposelessness:  A vast, yet overwhelming, sea of possibility. Life has always moved me from one thing to the next. High school moved me to college, college to the workforce, the workforce to marriage, marriage to parenthood, parenthood to what? There are no more next logical steps. Too much time—too many unexplored possibilities—no desire to explore—no motivation. “I just want . . . ” flutters through my mind and stops. I don’t know how to finish that sentence. Everything I really want I simply can’t have. And it’s a repetitious thought too. How many times will I stop short until something fills in that blank? Will anything ever fill that blank?

Unwanted Purpose:  Full-time caregiver? Please, Lord, No! Not for my baby! Not for my courageous, tenacious and oh, so sassy girl! No more surrendered dreams! No more isolation! No more crushing disappointments! No more untreatable pain! No more loss! Please, Lord, no more heartbreak!

 

Adrift

 

I’m tired.

 

Adrift

 

I just want my life back!

 

Adrift

 

So very broken . . .

 

Adrift

 

I just want my kids back!

I just want my kids back!

I just want . . .

 

Adrift

 

It’s only a matter of time until the next shoe drops . . .

 

Adrift

 

Restlessness.

Anxiety.

Panic!

 

Adrift

 

Lost, lost, lost. . . 

 

Adrift

 

Rudderless.

Empty.

Hollow.

Cut loose.

I just want . . . 

 

Adrift, adrift, adrift as the tide flows in and out – straining to hear the still small voice whispering any kind of hope for my remaining days in this world of sin.

 
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Posted by on July 26, 2016 in Grief

 

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