Detached

I sat across from a dear friend I hadn't seen in awhile the other day and we began to "catch up."  I started to go through the last 2 months and just run at the mouth about life. I was very matter of fact and going through the 8 weeks as if I was checking off a list of happenings. After a little while of talking, I looked up and my friends eyes were filling with tears as she shook her head in disbelief. She consoled me with "I'm sorry's" and "that's horrible" and "I just can't believe it." As she sat there clearly upset for me I realized I was not.  I was detached from the words coming out of my mouth, detached from the emotions that accompany these happenings.  I've been out of touch with the real, the raw, and the ugly.

Since the loss I went back to the worst 2 months in a year-round teacher's life...the last month and the first month back to back. With open house and back to school night and saying goodbye to saying hello...I feel like a walking zombie on a normal year. But this year I called it survival mode, Just. Keep. Going.

Knowing this couldn't possibly be healthy, I consulted my counselor. "How do I deal with  everything else going on? I don't have the capacity..." I told her. She responded, "Put it in a small box not very far away and we will open it when you go off. Right now you do need to focus on a day at a time."

And so here I am sharing with my friend, stone cold.  I'm telling her the countless doctor appointments I've had with new doctors, where the loss is just another medical condition. Where thyroid specialists call it an abortion and receptionists unknowingly ask how I'm feeling and how many weeks am I now. Where I have to explain my "medical condition" over and over to new people as well as hear how abnormal it is for me to have 2 healthy children and 2 late miscarriages. Countless tests have been run all with no explaination.

I explained how my children have suffered, processed, and remembered. From them asking when Jesus is going to give us the baby back to MarKay recalling the moment she heard the baby died because she heard the same song that was playing in the car at that time. I recounted that the first time I met my doctor was her coming in to verify the baby's death.......and so on and so on.

So here I am, off-track, which means it is time to open the box.  I feel like ripping it open and diving in but as I crack it open, it is just overwhelming.  I sat across from my counselor and talked about what seemed like dumb petty stuff. My anxiety's in my relationships, being a mom, struggling with what seems like insurmountable selfishness, and work.  Near the end of the session I just said, "So when are we getting to the baby? This stuff is petty and it pisses me off. I want to get to the real ish, the real problem." She leaned into the couch from her office chair and said, "We are talking about the baby.  Whether you think this is processing or not, everything you are dealing with comes from the loss."

It's true. All the little things I'm dealing with were not what I was dealing with "before." It's new, and yucky, and ugly. It's my new normal.

My counselor also senses my disconnect with my emotions. After being in survival mode for 2 months I'm not in touch with myself. I don't know where I am at or how I am feeling about much of anything (except for all the unhealthy things). Next session I'm working with a sand tray....hmmmm ok......and my homework is to play with clay, play-doh, or a stress ball for 20 min whenever I can. Does typing count? I'm doing that!

Spiritually I've been honest, overwhelmed, and still. It's the one area that I say, "Well last time I...." a lot. But this time it's different no matter how much I think I can handle it, I can't. I've drawn and loved on Romans 8:26.

In the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.

There has been a lot of interceding I have asked for. I continue to ask you to pray on my behalf as well. Pray that I am kind to myself during this process, that I am reminded of the immeasurable love that Christ has for me. That I am not a mere vessel of carrying pain but that my suffering will matter one day. That I would not make a list of "should's" for myself but make a list of "be's."  And more than anything, Gods mercy would be evident towards me during this time and if there is anything worthy of praise, that He would receive all of the glory.

When I open this "box" of emotion it seems like a never-ending uphill climb.  But every motion I take (step, stride, or crawl) uphill is one closer to the top. I'm ready to take on the hard work of re-engaging.....it's hard and vulnerable and messy but there is hope, and love, and strength given to me by so many of my blessings all along the way. Which makes everyday worth living in a real, honest and ugly way.