Wounds

For a long time now I’ve felt a need to write my experiences during the time of Brad’s death and his funeral. I know I’ll want to look back on it one day. I know Leah will want to understand. I don’t want to forget. 

For now though, it’s so very easy to put that off. 

Of course, I’m a crazy woman and feel like my plate is constantly overflowing, but mostly, I don’t like doing anything that causes me pain. 

See, I’ve discovered how to lock my grief away and forget about it. (I’m not talking about any illegal substances here, just so we’re clear.) Sometimes I have to fight it to stay in that nice little cage. Sometimes it cooperates and other times it fights back with a vengeance. (uh….did anyone see me two Sundays ago?) 

But, I know that bottling up all my emotions is not the healthiest thing to do, for me or any others that might be affected when I explode and spill molten hot crazy all over them. 

It’s like a wound, I’ve decided. It not only has to heal. It has to heal properly. 

I remember listening to my aunt and uncle a few years ago as they shared what it was like to deal with a three year old with third degree burns all over her back. (Really sad story. Let’s just say, who ever decided that it was a good idea to give toddlers little sparkling sticks of fire and tell them to run and wave it around was seriously looney.) 

I remember my aunt saying that they had to scrub her burns in the bath tub. Can you imagine how much that must’ve hurt her? How sad for her parents to listen to her scream? Heartbreaking. 

If they had just left it, like I’m sure that three year old wanted them to, eventually that wound would’ve probably healed all on it’s own. But it wouldn’t have healed right. It would’ve had lots of problems. Infection, disfiguration, and probably more pain, because a doctor would eventually have to fix the improper healing. 

So they scrubbed. 

And the burn healed–the right way. It took a while, and I can’t imagine it was easy. But now that burn that used to run from her neck to her hips and rib cage to rib cage, is a small scar. (Some of that is because she’s all grown up and like….11 or something. She’s so cute and the coolest 11 something year old too, by the way.) 

I think grief is like that. Something’s happened that causes a giant wound to rip through us. It’s overwhelming painful at first. We don’t think we can suffer through it, but as time goes on, we start to heal. But we have to do it the right way or eventually, we’ll realize that that wound we thought was all better, really isn’t. 

And then...molten hot crazy. 

Writing down my experience is like scrubbing the wound. I need to do it. They’re are lots of things I need to do to help my wound heal. 

So if you happen to see me a little...off...just know that I’m allowing my little monster out of his cage. Hopefully, he doesn’t freak out on you. 

Overwhelmed

Tonight we went back to our grief support group after a summer break. I was hesitant to go. I always am–mostly because I’m so done that I just want to go HOME! (Leah and I left our house today at 7:00 and got home at 9:00)

But, like most weeks, I was pretty glad I went. Leah loves it, and it’s nice to talk to people who understand what I’m dealing with and aren’t sick of hearing me talk about it all the time.

Cuz that’s what they’re there for. To listen and share and understand.

Tonight I mostly listened.

Listened as a widow just younger than me shared about the hard life she’s had.

Scratch that. Not hard.

Horrible, gut wrenching, awful. I’m not just talking about a few bad days here. This is her life. Her children’s lives.

I cried.

I felt totally overwhelmed. And guilty.

I know I have some hard things in my life to deal with. And guess what, there’s probably going to be more.

But.

I really do have SO MUCH to be grateful for. I am so totally blessed, I feel like I don’t deserve it. As I listened to her, I couldn’t find one thing in my life worth complaining about.

I felt stupid. I knew some people had lives like this. But I’d never been face to face with someone who did. I live in a bubble sometimes. She was cute ad funny. I could tell that she was trying not to act like what she was saying was a big deal, but I could see how much her heart was broken and how hard she was trying.

I am overwhelmed with the blessings that I have. And I feel guilty. Awful. I almost couldn’t look her in the face as I thought that Leah and I had just spent the hour before going out to eat together and buying some crap that I don’t need just because it was cute.

I take so much for granted.

Man.

I feel so blessed right now.