Out of the Darkness

Since I wrote last, Jon’s 53rd birthday and the one year anniversary of his passing have come and gone.  I had not yet taken the time to sit down and write about that “one year” experience.  For the last couple of blog entries I strayed from cataloging the pure grief experience.  It’s ok, there are no rules here and I like watching the way this has grown and evolved, but for a moment, I need to return to why I started this originally.  Originally I wanted to detail the raw, unkempt experience of grief so that I could look back and see God’s healing taking place over time.  Let’s go there, shall we?  

As the one year anniversary approached, I found myself struggling severely with depression and anxiety, unable to sleep, nights filled with catastrophic thinking and fear, numb during the day, unable to stay focused or have the motivation and energy to take care of things that needed to be done.  Depression….how fitting, I thought.  The thing that killed Jon is making me wish I were dead, too.  I went to see my counselor.  We were talking about the future and I jokingly said, “maybe I won’t live that long.” (Insert my awkward “haha” here).  He said, “Oh, so you’ve thought about not living a long time?”  Me: “Oh, not that I would kill myself.  I would never do that.  I just think maybe I’ll get cancer, or get hit by a bus or something, or preferably there will be a natural disaster that takes me and all the people I love at once…Better yet, Jesus could just come back.”  He said, “You know that’s depression talking.”  Ohhh???? well I guess that’s possible….So, I made an appointment to see my doctor.  Let’s all be real clear - I don’t do meds.  I just don’t.  First of all, I don’t think they work and secondly, even if they did, I always forget to take them, which, true story, is why I have two children!  Haha!  BUT, my very sweet and compassionate doctor helped me come to the conclusion that perhaps an anti-depressant might be a good fit right now.  She’s super conservative and knows how I feel about meds, so she gave me the lowest dose possible.  I think it might actually be helping, praise God!  But can I be real with you?  Like, seriously real?  I mean, I’m going to do it anyway apparently, but for some reason I feel compelled to ask your permission.  What’s worse than the depression is that I feel like such a loser for being depressed and needing meds to help me.  I feel like my faith ought to be stronger than this.  I mean, if tragedy reveals who you really are, then what does this say about me?  I know, I know!  You guys would never judge me that way.  You’re thinking, “of course you’re depressed!  I would be depressed, too!”  Right?  But the judgement we place on ourselves is always far more harsh, isn't it?  

So, where was I?  Oh yes…..one year.

On the actual date of the one year anniversary, April 11th, I had a good day.  I woke up, went for a walk, got myself steadied in the word and then ran a million errands to get ready for the evening.  We had invited a few friends to join us at my sister’s house that evening.  We had Jon’s favorite foods: fried chicken, mac and cheese, fried okra and carrot cake.  After dinner we sat around outside and sang hymns (one of his favorite things to do!) and shared stories about him.  It was a really sweet time and great way to spend the anniversary.  Once again, it made me so thankful for the support network of family, friends, Christian brothers and sisters who have held us up and walked beside us this year.  They have faithfully shared our burden and lightened our load at every hairpin turn and treacherous uphill climb.  I ended the day feeling blessed and exhaling a huge sigh of relief.  This feeling stayed with me for another two days and then a grief tidal wave hit.  That’s the way it goes lately.

I made a decision shortly after the 11th to take off my wedding ring and tuck it away in my jewelry box.  This has by far been one of the most huge and difficult decisions of the past year.  Before you start making assumptions, taking it off had nothing to do with “moving on” or wanting anyone to think I’m “available.”   Taking it off, was a reminder to myself to live in the present. In taking an inventory of my life, the thoughts and depression that were starting to weigh so heavily on me, I realized that part of the reason I feel frozen everyday is because 90% of my thoughts are either spent reliving the past or fearing the future.  And as you can deduce, that leaves very little thought availability for the present.  I have spent an enormous amount of energy this year trying to maintain this relationship with someone who is no longer here.  As part of my grief, and in my effort to honor my husband and our marriage, I have carried this torch and made an exhaustive effort to constantly declare our undying love to the world.  I have spent months on end buried in our memories, our sacred communications with each other, wearing his shirts, hugging his pillow, holding on to every last shred of our life together.  I need to realize that whereas our love is eternal and will never leave me, he is no longer here with me, and as hard as it is to fathom, that relationship is in the past.  I KNOW who we were.  YOU know who we were.  I don’t need to prove our love to anyone.  It was real and amazing and life changing.  You couldn’t be around us for more than 10 seconds and not know we were deeply, madly, passionately and eternally in love with each other.  The impact of knowing love like that can never be taken from me, but the experience of that love can no longer be maintained and it is time to bring my heart into a healthy realization of this present life.  Taking my ring off was a tangible way for me to remind myself to live in the here and now.  

Let me close with a story.  My dad once told me of a time when he was a teenager and got left at the county fair.  He was one of 12 children and they were expected to be responsible for themselves.  He didn’t make it to the car in time, so he got left behind.  Keep in mind this was the 1940’s, in a rural area in the panhandle of Texas.  Most people didn’t even have telephones in their homes.  There were certainly no pay phones, no cell phones or personal flash lights.  You couldn’t call an uber.  If you were left behind…you were stuck!  It was almost dark and he was trying to figure out how to get home.  He started out walking, but his house was several miles away.  The darkness settled in quickly and soon he said he could not even see the road beneath his feet.  There were no street lights, or passing cars.  This was farm country.  The houses were few and far between.  He was stumbling on the dark rocky road, and could hear dogs barking and rustling in the fields.   It was scary!  He made the wise decision to walk to his oldest sister’s home, which was only about a mile away.  Don’t you know that must have been the longest mile ever!  I’m just imagining this skinny, young teenage boy, completely alone, in the pitch black night, afraid and walking down a dirt road.  Of course if it had been light outside, that would have been a completely different experience.  He wouldn’t have stumbled on the rocks or been frightened by the dogs barking in the distance.  The wind blowing through the fields would have probably been a nice treat, rather than something stirring up mysterious noises. Sometimes this grief journey is like that.  There are days I can do it, days I don’t stumble and don’t feel afraid, but sometimes the night falls and everything changes.   Dealing with the challenge of depression is like adding the pitch black night to the rocky, lonely dirt road and even though I might only have to go a mile, it feels like 100 miles. 

So here's the only thing I know to do.  When I was little, I was afraid of the dark.  I don’t know why, butI just did not want to sleep in my bed.  I knew it was wrong and I knew I NEEDED to sleep in my room, so when the lights went out, I would close my eyes tight, clasp my hands around my doll and whisper, “God is with me.  God is with me.  God is with me.  God is with me.  God is with me.  God is with me.”  I would say it a million times until I believed it or until I fell asleep.   Sometimes that’s all we can do.  I’m working on also believing that God is FOR me, but that’s a post for another day!  For now, “God is with me.  God is with me.  God is with me…..and God is with you.  God is with you.  God is with you.”  Keep walking, friend…it will be morning soon.