As of this afternoon, I've officially completed my first year of grad school! What a year it has been. I am so glad I chose the field of School Psychology (or as one of my professors might say, it chose me). This past year I've learned a lot, and I am more convinced than ever that all of the long days and late nights will be well worth it to make a difference in the lives of students, their teachers, their families, and their communities. I'm also convinced that divine intervention led to perfect timing for me to meet some of the world's most generous, kind, intelligent, lovely human beings as a result of me starting grad school when I did and where I did (shoutout to my love Ted, my housemates Megan and Leah, and my co[heart]!). I am infinitely grateful for their support throughout this past year.
I wish I had the brain power to write some eloquent reflections, but I think my brain is tired after the past few weeks of final projects, exams, papers, and presentations, and this week of administering and scoring assessments (fluency week- check!). Instead, here are some sound-bite-sized reflections:
~A walk outside can do wonders for your state of mind on a busy day.
~It's important to learn how to do some things just "good enough." (Thanks, Karen!)
~Learning new things alongside others makes a steep learning curve so much more bearable. (shoutout to my co[heart] and the rest of the amazing SPSY students!)
~Stress can have a huge impact on your digestive system (oh hey, IBS symptoms appearing at the worst times).
~You know you're a nerd when you feel so pumped that you found the perfect article to cite for a key point in your paper after reading tons of abstracts.
~We expect so much of teachers and provide them with far too little support.
~I used to think 5 years sounded like a lot of time to spend in a graduate program; I now realize it's definitely not enough time to learn all that I need to learn about my field.
~Grad school might be the perfect time to start a relationship with a patient, understanding, loving partner.
~If you'd like to accomplish something slowly, try doing it at a large university with guidance from overworked professors. Expect to exchange at least five emails in order to establish a meeting, which will inevitably begin later and end earlier than you had hoped. You'll leave with more questions than you brought with you. Keep on keepin' on.
~When you're in grad school at a large university, you have access to so many interesting lectures and trainings that you'll never have time for them all. (But hopefully just a few really good ones!)
~No matter how many kids you work with, they will continue to surprise, frustrate, and inspire you in new ways.
~Trust that while the expectations of you will grow, so too will your skills in meeting them.
I'm excited to reach this small milestone, and I continue to be inspired and uplifted by such wonderful people in my life. :)
Friday, May 11, 2018
Tuesday, October 17, 2017
Moments With You II
It's been a long week of studying and working and here we are, spending our Saturday afternoon the same way. You're getting antsy and I'm getting cranky and so you suggest a walk. I'm so glad you did, because I start to feel better as we stroll hand in hand through the neighborhood nearby, peppered with cute houses and colorful leaves. It is a busy, beautiful season in our lives. I'm thinking to myself what a blessing it is to have you by my side. We get back to the house, settle onto the couch, and you look at me in thought. "What?" I say, and you say "thanks for spending so much time with me." And I smile and I laugh because I love spending time with you. You make everything better.
As I trudge back to the student room it's like my body knows I've made it through the last requirement for today, and I can feel the wave of exhaustion swelling up to overtake me. When I walk in the room I see a sparkling gift bag on my shelf... I'm excited, then a voice in my head says it can't be for me, maybe someone ran out of room on their shelf, but I pull the bag down and I see, there on the top, a note for me from you all. With hearts drawn in ink and words written in love, as I read your support the tears well and my heart buoys. I have the best friends. She did, too. Oh how I wish she could have believed in how many more wonderful moments there were to come, that she could have felt in her soul the truth that we are never, ever walking through our hardest days alone.
&&&&&&&&&&
As I trudge back to the student room it's like my body knows I've made it through the last requirement for today, and I can feel the wave of exhaustion swelling up to overtake me. When I walk in the room I see a sparkling gift bag on my shelf... I'm excited, then a voice in my head says it can't be for me, maybe someone ran out of room on their shelf, but I pull the bag down and I see, there on the top, a note for me from you all. With hearts drawn in ink and words written in love, as I read your support the tears well and my heart buoys. I have the best friends. She did, too. Oh how I wish she could have believed in how many more wonderful moments there were to come, that she could have felt in her soul the truth that we are never, ever walking through our hardest days alone.
&&&&&&&&&&
You seem so excited as you talk about your new dance class and the start to your cross country career. I love seeing your eyes light up as you grow in confidence in your abilities. You tell the funniest stories about your teachers and classmates and I again admire your story-telling skills. I wish I saw you more often during this stage of your life while you are quickly becoming an adolescent. Every time I see you you're taller and more mature and I know that these stages take forever when you're in them but go by in a blink of an eye for the rest of us. Your texts make me smile and I'm so thankful to see you doing so well.
&&&&&&&&&&
As we crunch through the leaves reining in the dogs with each passing squirrel, I can't help but picture our future, Taylor-Swift-style imagining the minute details of our happily ever after. We've talked about the dogs we might adopt someday, the home we might have someday, the life we might create someday. It's hard to believe it's only been months since I started calling you mine because it feels like we have fallen into love so naturally and effortlessly. But it does take effort, building this partnership with you, and every day we choose each other and it's everything I've ever wanted. You make me dinner and I pack your lunch and together we navigate the insanity of our schedules like it's easier than it is, because everything is easier when we do it together.
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
Here and There
It's hard to believe how quickly two years of my life have flown by, and harder still to believe all the life that's happened in them. In a few shorts days I'll be packing everything I own into a truck and moving (back) to Pennsylvania, to State College. Thankfully, due to some inspirational Pinterest posts, my helpful roommate Ashley, and a more well-developed ability to let go of stuff, everything I own is about 6 bags of trash and 6 bags of donations less than it was just a few weeks ago!
Leaving NOVA will be bittersweet, because so much life has happened here. Most of all I'll miss seeing my roomie Ashley all the time, and the friends I've made from work and bible study.
It was here that I worked my first grown-up, full-time job, which taught me more about managing both spreadsheets and people, both of which I enjoyed more than I had anticipated (though the people were much more fun than the data, as expected!). It was here that I got the call about Maggie's death, and here that I've processed the immediate and very worst of my grief over missing her. (Though I miss her still, and always will.) While living here I volunteered with a humane society for the first time and loved it. It was while living here that I tried online dating, fell in love, and then we together ended that relationship. It was here that I decided to get my first tattoo-- a simple design that represents my forever love for my family-- that thankfully turned out exactly as I had hoped. Here I observed, up close and personal, what it's like to be in a clinical psychology PhD program. Here I researched graduate programs and decided against clinical psych and for school psych, wrote my application materials, and prepared for interviews. It was here that I got the emails about my acceptance to Penn State! Here I helped, from a distance, to plan and prepare for some of my dearest friends' weddings. Here I bonded more deeply with Katie during several sister weekends, packed with quality time over Netflix and cupcakes and snuggles. Here I questioned, explored, and clung to my belief in a loving God. It was while living here that I learned more about renter's insurance, auto insurance, finding new doctors, roasting vegetables, and all those adult life things. Within my last few months of living here, I took a chance and answered a message from a kind, clever, handsome redhead, who I'm so thrilled to be moving towards later this week. :D
There is so much I'm looking forward to in State College: getting to know my new roommates (and their cute cat!), bonding with my cohort, starting my program, becoming reacquainted with my favorite college town, and being geographically closer to everyone in my immediate family and my boyfriend (lucky, right?!). :) Arguably the most important life lesson I've learned during my time here is that I am surrounded by an overwhelmingly faithful, caring, generous, global "community" of people. I know that no matter what the next chapter of my life entails, no matter what difficult and wonderful things will happen there, I will not ever face any of it alone.
Shoutouts to: my friends here for the cards, presents, and epic farewell parties!, and the awesome folks planning to help me move all my belongings this weekend! Happy Valley, I'm coming back! :)
Leaving NOVA will be bittersweet, because so much life has happened here. Most of all I'll miss seeing my roomie Ashley all the time, and the friends I've made from work and bible study.
It was here that I worked my first grown-up, full-time job, which taught me more about managing both spreadsheets and people, both of which I enjoyed more than I had anticipated (though the people were much more fun than the data, as expected!). It was here that I got the call about Maggie's death, and here that I've processed the immediate and very worst of my grief over missing her. (Though I miss her still, and always will.) While living here I volunteered with a humane society for the first time and loved it. It was while living here that I tried online dating, fell in love, and then we together ended that relationship. It was here that I decided to get my first tattoo-- a simple design that represents my forever love for my family-- that thankfully turned out exactly as I had hoped. Here I observed, up close and personal, what it's like to be in a clinical psychology PhD program. Here I researched graduate programs and decided against clinical psych and for school psych, wrote my application materials, and prepared for interviews. It was here that I got the emails about my acceptance to Penn State! Here I helped, from a distance, to plan and prepare for some of my dearest friends' weddings. Here I bonded more deeply with Katie during several sister weekends, packed with quality time over Netflix and cupcakes and snuggles. Here I questioned, explored, and clung to my belief in a loving God. It was while living here that I learned more about renter's insurance, auto insurance, finding new doctors, roasting vegetables, and all those adult life things. Within my last few months of living here, I took a chance and answered a message from a kind, clever, handsome redhead, who I'm so thrilled to be moving towards later this week. :D
There is so much I'm looking forward to in State College: getting to know my new roommates (and their cute cat!), bonding with my cohort, starting my program, becoming reacquainted with my favorite college town, and being geographically closer to everyone in my immediate family and my boyfriend (lucky, right?!). :) Arguably the most important life lesson I've learned during my time here is that I am surrounded by an overwhelmingly faithful, caring, generous, global "community" of people. I know that no matter what the next chapter of my life entails, no matter what difficult and wonderful things will happen there, I will not ever face any of it alone.
Shoutouts to: my friends here for the cards, presents, and epic farewell parties!, and the awesome folks planning to help me move all my belongings this weekend! Happy Valley, I'm coming back! :)
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
Thoughts on International Women's Day 2017
Today I pause to consider the women who have gone before me to pave the way for me to be able to achieve my goals. If it were not for women and men of incredible strength and perseverance, I would not have been able to attend college, to work in the field of psychological research, to soon train and study towards a graduate degree, etc. I am pursuing a career in which I will make scientific discoveries as well as educate, train, and empower children, their families, their teachers, and their communities. It is my intention to continue to gain the knowledge and skills to make a lasting, positive impact for the lives of the people I interact with both personally and professionally. I am grateful for the women who have gone before me to create precedents for female engagement in my field and others related to it.
I also pause to reflect on the blessing of my wonderful parents, who every day provide an example of a loving partnership within marriage between two equally compassionate and strong individuals. To have been raised and be continually supported by a mother who is both nurturing and assertive, who is an essential presence in her children's lives and in the work force, who is passionately well-read and educated, who is a comfort to me in hard times and a catalyst for my success in all parts of life, and more, as well as a father who is both courageous and sensitive, who actively prioritizes time with family over time at work, who has used his position of authority to advocate for patient access to care, who expresses affection consistently and frequently, and more, is a privilege for which I am so grateful.
When I think about the character of God, I find it inspiring that both man and woman were, together and collectively, deemed a more full human representation of deity. The Bible is filled with stories of women and men radically defying their culturally prescribed gendered roles in order to together better advance the gospel and share the news of God's love. We are at our most successful, most loving, most godlike when we intentionally and actively consider one another as equal partners in the human experience.
I also pause to reflect on the blessing of my wonderful parents, who every day provide an example of a loving partnership within marriage between two equally compassionate and strong individuals. To have been raised and be continually supported by a mother who is both nurturing and assertive, who is an essential presence in her children's lives and in the work force, who is passionately well-read and educated, who is a comfort to me in hard times and a catalyst for my success in all parts of life, and more, as well as a father who is both courageous and sensitive, who actively prioritizes time with family over time at work, who has used his position of authority to advocate for patient access to care, who expresses affection consistently and frequently, and more, is a privilege for which I am so grateful.
When I think about the character of God, I find it inspiring that both man and woman were, together and collectively, deemed a more full human representation of deity. The Bible is filled with stories of women and men radically defying their culturally prescribed gendered roles in order to together better advance the gospel and share the news of God's love. We are at our most successful, most loving, most godlike when we intentionally and actively consider one another as equal partners in the human experience.
Wednesday, February 15, 2017
Moments with You
//Here you'll find a new creative exercise for me, an attempt to put into words some snapshots of moments with important people in my life. Each "you" will not be named, though some may be easier to identify than others. This may be the first of more like this, I really enjoyed putting these memories into words.//
__________________________________________
I look over at you as we drive with the windows down, the wind blowing through my hair and a smile playing on your lips. You reach over with your right hand and place it gently on my knee and I grin at you and you grin back. We are loving this unseasonably warm weather and I'm purposefully picking songs from my phone with that "chill vibe" that you like. I'm also purposefully choosing ones about love and happiness. You ask me if we should turn right or left, and I say you should pick, I really don't care, because we have nowhere we need to be today, and my isn't that a glorious thing. I focus only on the music, the sunshine, the wind, my hand on top of your hand, your smile matching my smile.
&&&&&&
You smell like hard-won self-care. The scent of your aromatherapy lotion grounds me as the three of us lay here together, reeling, trying to breathe and make sense of it all. You hold us both close as we mostly cry, talking here and there when we can. Eventually you get up, we move on to the rest of the daunting day ahead of us. Months later I track down the lotion you were wearing and I buy some for myself. It makes me think of you, which brings me comfort.
&&&&&
As we sit down at the picnic table, you start unpacking the lunches that you made for us. You're such a planner, and generous and thoughtful, too. You dole out the sandwiches and snacks you packed and the four of us settle into a pattern of light chatter between bites. I still can't believe we've convinced the littler ones to come along, but somehow your enthusiasm must have spilled over into them because everyone seems to be in a good mood. We take our time eating, then pack up and set off for the hike. Just before we reach the clearing with the tower we encounter tons of butterflies, or maybe they're moths, it's hard to tell but it doesn't really matter because the visual effect is the same- it's beautiful.
&&&&&&
The airport noises dim as I turn around to see you, unexpectedly, here in my dream. You've been missing from them lately, or when you do appear you're fleeting, something is always off. But not this time, this time you seem as real as ever. You ask me if I have any questions, and I can sense the urgency of the moment, like in a second you'll be gone again, and so I say no, maybe later, maybe next time. For now I just want to tell you that I love you. And you tell me you love me too. When I turn to the others, maybe to alert them that you're here, you disappear again. But you felt so real, I think the moment was real.
&&&&&&
Your text response makes me smile- something so simple yet so thoughtful, conveying that you listen when I speak and you care about what I say. I've volunteered to bring home some cheese for us, to pair with the wine and crackers you already have. I've asked which kind of cheese you'd like, and you say I should get whichever kind doesn't make me sick, because you know that for some reason my digestive system plays nicer with certain types of cheese than others. You know this because we talk about pretty much everything, mundane and important alike, and you have a knack for knowing when something is important and you tune in and make a mental note, and you remember.
&&&&&&
The weather is just starting to turn chilly, still in between winter and full-on spring, and we're both wearing sweaters but no coats. You hold my hand as we talk here on this bench we happened upon down the trail in the woods and you sense that what I'm saying will be hard to hear. At least, it seems you do, because from the pained expression on your face you are recognizing the place of pain I'm speaking from. The tears come on a bit unexpectedly, and soon I am crying more than you've seen yet and more than I would like, this being a date and all. But you wrap both arms around me and you start to tear up, too. We sit like this, not saying much, as I catch my breath. You wait for me, you don't hurry the moment. You're okay to sit with me in this not-okay state. And a few minutes later, when I'm ready, I bring up a new topic and you gracefully move right along with me. As we walk back to the car, I think we decide to go bowling. You crack a joke, I laugh, I check my make-up in the passenger side mirror and I realize that I'm falling in love with you.
Wednesday, October 5, 2016
1 year too long
How do you love someone after they've left you? How do you remember someone who has done both wonderful and terrible things to your heart? How do you ask the same God for comfort who allowed the pain?
I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. And yet, I'm doing it, I'm doing all of it. And I'm not alone.
I remember what it felt like to hold her hand, her short fingers smushed between my long ones. I remember the sound of her voice calling me "sistah." I remember moments of calm and joy and moments of panic and hopelessness. And I don't want to forget.
Mag, it's been 1 year too long without you here. You should be here. And I love you still.
Come, Jesus, come.
Saturday, August 27, 2016
"this happened for a reason," and other well-intended things not to say
I've been meaning to write a post like this for some time. Not because I want to shame people who have made insensitive comments to me in the last 10.5 months or so, but because of all that I've been learning in these months, and in fact, because I want to thank people who have made comforting comments to me in this time. Today, as I sit here eating a fudgsicle and rock out to a song by Alessia Cara that I think Mag would like (Scars To Your Beautiful, if you're wondering), seems as good a time as any to try to type out some of my thoughts.
[I know that most of my blog posts recently have been about grief, so if that's not what you want to read about, and you're my friend or my family member and you feel like you're supposed to read my posts, it's totally fine. I'm not going to be offended if you admit you've never read any of these, promise. ;) I am blessed to be surrounded by so many wonderful people that if this topic makes you uncomfortable, you don't need to enter into it with me. I have people who will and who do. And there are times when I don't need to talk about it, and in those times I will be happy to discuss practically anything else with you :) My purpose in writing posts like these isn't to ask for help- I am gratefully so well supported already. My purpose is to contribute to the online body of personal writing that talks about grief, that I have been so thankful to stumble across these past months. I've found great comfort and wisdom in the words of others writing about their losses, their journeys with missing loved ones, and I hope my words can do the same for someone else. I digress!]
Grief isn't my whole life, but it has become an important part of it. I am learning how to embrace life that is happening now while still missing Maggie, how to hold the terrible and the beautiful in both hands and let them coexist. I think it's important that I clarify that I will never stop missing her, I will never stop noticing her absence, and I will never be okay with the way that she died. This doesn't mean that I am always sad, it just means that I am allowing myself the freedom to feel what I believe it is right for me to feel.
I've been wrestling through what it looks like to respond to this loss in light of my faith- a faith that was shaken when I lost Mag. In truth, it was shaken before she died, as I watched her struggle and I watched God seemingly ignore the heartfelt pleas for healing prayed by herself and a multitude of people I would consider as close to righteous as humans can get. Ironically enough, the very event-her death by suicide- that caused me to most question God's goodness/character, is the one that most compels me to believe Him. How could He allow this? How could He not intervene? And yet, my one hope of reunion with her, my one hope for her being at peace in a redeemed body and mind even as I write this, is that God is love and that she is now in Heaven with Him. Oh, the tension.
When Jesus lost a close friend, His response- despite knowing that He was about to literally resurrect said friend- was to weep. If my God's reaction is to weep in the face of loss, even with His full knowledge of the "big picture" and even with both the power and intention to bring His friend back to life, then surely it must be okay for me to weep too, in my human state here without that omniscience and without that power over death. If loss breaks His heart, it is right for it to break my heart too, it seems. (Forgive me if I am repeating this from a former post, it's been a profound thought for me.)
I'm less angry at God now than I was a few months ago, so you might see or hear me talk about my faith a bit more, or at least with less bitterness in my voice. This doesn't mean that I've found peace about losing Maggie or that I see a reason why God allowed it. In fact, I venture a guess that I won't ever get to know that reason, if one exists, this side of Heaven. Which brings me to the point I meant to write about to begin with...
I am the type of person who always wants to say the right thing to the hurting person. And goodness has losing Maggie taught me how HARD that can be. Phrases like "everything happens for a reason" are phrases I once used to enjoy. I probably even said that phrase in the past to someone who was hurting and patted myself on the back for offering up such a helpful, hopeful platitude. Now I grimace at my former self. But I meant well. And so do the people who repeat my mistakes. It's important that I note here that, based on my own experience, it is better to say something, anything, even the wrong thing, than to say nothing at all. That simple truth will underlie everything I am about to write. Having said that, there are things you can say that are helpful and things that are not-so-helpful. Maybe it's comforting for you to hear that your loss happened for a reason. For me, it isn't. Because I don't know the reason why, and I might never in my lifetime. And even if I did know the reason, would that really make it hurt less? I don't think so. What qualifies as helpful vs. not helpful will differ from person to person, so these examples I'll list will only be for me and my experience.
Not-so-helpful:
1. God is in control.
2. This happened/everything happens for a reason.
3. God must have needed him/her more than we did.
4. Time heals all wounds.
5. I know exactly what you're going through.
^I should note that some things can be true without being helpful. Certain words can be helpful for some, in certain circumstances, and not helpful for those same people in different circumstances, can be not helpful for different people in those same circumstances. We will misspeak, we will say things we shouldn't and we will not say things that we should. Love covers over a multitude of sins. And actions really do speak louder than words. And being present is more important than saying the right thing. And yet it is still worthwhile to endeavor to say something that may truly be a comfort, and not pour salt in fresh wounds. (Please see the excellent song "Not Right Now" by Jason Gray).
Helpful:
1. (This is so sad, and) I don't know what to say.
2. I'm really sorry this is happening/happened to you.
3. He/she (who you lost) touched my life in a significant way.
4. I would like to bring you food, who should I talk to about this?
(Bonus points if through asking around you've already coordinated with others to find out what is needed, to not repeat a dish, to find a convenient time to drop it off, and to make something that can stay frozen for a while)
5. I went through something similar, and while I don't know exactly what you're going through, I know it must suck.
6. If you want company, I am happy to come and just sit/walk/be with you. Call me any time.
(Bonus points if you make it clear there's no pressure to call)
^It's also super helpful to follow up any of these phrases by letting the grieving person know that you don't expect them to reply any time soon. That you understand they must be overwhelmed, that you want them to do whatever they need to do to cope, that you're there if they want you to be and not if they don't. This communicates that you are recognizing their time of crisis and placing their need to cope over your need to feel like a good friend/family member/what-have-you. Everyone processes grief in unique ways, and often in different ways throughout the hours, weeks, days, months, and years after the loss.
Speaking on my own experience... When I got the news that Maggie died, I cried alone in my room for a short time before knocking on my roommate's door and waking her up. She gave me a really big hug and said she was so sorry and didn't ask me any questions at all, which was what I needed at that time. She is a blessing. At a certain point, I did want to discuss details about that terrible night, but when it felt like I was swirling into a dark hole was not that time. She is one of the friends who has listened to me many times since then, and she's also helped in really tangible ways like bringing me pants which I forgot to pack in my daze of shock.
In the days that followed, despite the fact that I am usually quite extroverted, I found it really difficult to be around more than a few people at a time. I was so exhausted trying to manage my own emotions, that I felt it nearly impossible to try to help others manage their emotions as well. Even though I didn't need to manage their emotions- many didn't need or want me to- unfortunately it's a part of my personality that was difficult to get past at the time, and so I didn't accept many offers for company. I ignored texts and calls from people who I love who love me. It was just too much. I asked a best friend to be there with me nearly constantly for the week between Mag's death and the memorial service. She's definitely awesome, and she's experienced the loss of a close family member as well, but it wasn't that she had some magic words that others didn't have, and it wasn't because I loved her better than my other friends. It was simply reactionary, it was what made sense to me at the time, it was what felt tolerable, what felt helpful. She put food on my plate that she knew I would like, and threw it away for me when I couldn't eat it. She proofread the words I wrote to be read at the service. She handed me tissues, she sat in silence, she cried with me, she watched episodes of HGTV on Netflix with me. She talked to our other friends for me and updated them, and she stacked cards for me to read when I was ready. She is a blessing. And so are the many who reached out that I was not able to connect with at that time. It was incredibly humbling to, in the midst of the hardest part of my life thus far, be contacted by literally hundreds of people who wanted to express their condolences, offer their help, let me know they were praying and thinking and caring for me. In the months since then I hope I've been able to thank everyone personally who reached out (if I missed you, please know I do appreciate your care!).
A couple of my friends have joked with me that I should write a book about all of this. And maybe someday I will. I've read some good blogs and books, but I've stumbled across little that deals specifically with losing someone to suicide, very little that deals with losing a sibling to suicide (usually focused on losing a child to suicide), and almost nothing on losing a younger sibling to suicide (a few I've found were younger sibs grieving a lost older sib). It is true that loss is loss- while each is unique, there are some deep similarities in the human experience with grief that transcend the specifics. Maybe someday I'll use pieces of these blog posts to form a larger piece. I've also been collecting brilliant quotes and lyrics from others that bring me comfort, and maybe sometime I'll compile those into a post too.
For now, I just wanted to get these thoughts and lessons written down, and say that I SO appreciate the folks in my life who are muddling through all of this with me. Seriously appreciate. I cannot express in words how valuable it is to have people in my life who are totally comfortable laughing and crying with me, even in the span of just a few minutes.
I am so blessed. Thank you to everyone who is learning, with me, to enter into the pain and the joy of our own lives and the lives of people we love, and to do it with as much grace as humanly possible.
~~~~
"I did not go through pain and come out on the other side; instead, I lived in it and found within that pain the grace to survive and eventually grow. I did not get over the loss of my loved ones; rather, I absorbed the loss into my life, like soil receives decaying matter, until it became a part of who I am. Sorrow took up permanent residence in my soul and enlarged it."
-from "A Grace Disguised" by Jerry Sittser
[I know that most of my blog posts recently have been about grief, so if that's not what you want to read about, and you're my friend or my family member and you feel like you're supposed to read my posts, it's totally fine. I'm not going to be offended if you admit you've never read any of these, promise. ;) I am blessed to be surrounded by so many wonderful people that if this topic makes you uncomfortable, you don't need to enter into it with me. I have people who will and who do. And there are times when I don't need to talk about it, and in those times I will be happy to discuss practically anything else with you :) My purpose in writing posts like these isn't to ask for help- I am gratefully so well supported already. My purpose is to contribute to the online body of personal writing that talks about grief, that I have been so thankful to stumble across these past months. I've found great comfort and wisdom in the words of others writing about their losses, their journeys with missing loved ones, and I hope my words can do the same for someone else. I digress!]
Grief isn't my whole life, but it has become an important part of it. I am learning how to embrace life that is happening now while still missing Maggie, how to hold the terrible and the beautiful in both hands and let them coexist. I think it's important that I clarify that I will never stop missing her, I will never stop noticing her absence, and I will never be okay with the way that she died. This doesn't mean that I am always sad, it just means that I am allowing myself the freedom to feel what I believe it is right for me to feel.
I've been wrestling through what it looks like to respond to this loss in light of my faith- a faith that was shaken when I lost Mag. In truth, it was shaken before she died, as I watched her struggle and I watched God seemingly ignore the heartfelt pleas for healing prayed by herself and a multitude of people I would consider as close to righteous as humans can get. Ironically enough, the very event-her death by suicide- that caused me to most question God's goodness/character, is the one that most compels me to believe Him. How could He allow this? How could He not intervene? And yet, my one hope of reunion with her, my one hope for her being at peace in a redeemed body and mind even as I write this, is that God is love and that she is now in Heaven with Him. Oh, the tension.
When Jesus lost a close friend, His response- despite knowing that He was about to literally resurrect said friend- was to weep. If my God's reaction is to weep in the face of loss, even with His full knowledge of the "big picture" and even with both the power and intention to bring His friend back to life, then surely it must be okay for me to weep too, in my human state here without that omniscience and without that power over death. If loss breaks His heart, it is right for it to break my heart too, it seems. (Forgive me if I am repeating this from a former post, it's been a profound thought for me.)
I'm less angry at God now than I was a few months ago, so you might see or hear me talk about my faith a bit more, or at least with less bitterness in my voice. This doesn't mean that I've found peace about losing Maggie or that I see a reason why God allowed it. In fact, I venture a guess that I won't ever get to know that reason, if one exists, this side of Heaven. Which brings me to the point I meant to write about to begin with...
I am the type of person who always wants to say the right thing to the hurting person. And goodness has losing Maggie taught me how HARD that can be. Phrases like "everything happens for a reason" are phrases I once used to enjoy. I probably even said that phrase in the past to someone who was hurting and patted myself on the back for offering up such a helpful, hopeful platitude. Now I grimace at my former self. But I meant well. And so do the people who repeat my mistakes. It's important that I note here that, based on my own experience, it is better to say something, anything, even the wrong thing, than to say nothing at all. That simple truth will underlie everything I am about to write. Having said that, there are things you can say that are helpful and things that are not-so-helpful. Maybe it's comforting for you to hear that your loss happened for a reason. For me, it isn't. Because I don't know the reason why, and I might never in my lifetime. And even if I did know the reason, would that really make it hurt less? I don't think so. What qualifies as helpful vs. not helpful will differ from person to person, so these examples I'll list will only be for me and my experience.
Not-so-helpful:
1. God is in control.
2. This happened/everything happens for a reason.
3. God must have needed him/her more than we did.
4. Time heals all wounds.
5. I know exactly what you're going through.
^I should note that some things can be true without being helpful. Certain words can be helpful for some, in certain circumstances, and not helpful for those same people in different circumstances, can be not helpful for different people in those same circumstances. We will misspeak, we will say things we shouldn't and we will not say things that we should. Love covers over a multitude of sins. And actions really do speak louder than words. And being present is more important than saying the right thing. And yet it is still worthwhile to endeavor to say something that may truly be a comfort, and not pour salt in fresh wounds. (Please see the excellent song "Not Right Now" by Jason Gray).
Helpful:
1. (This is so sad, and) I don't know what to say.
2. I'm really sorry this is happening/happened to you.
3. He/she (who you lost) touched my life in a significant way.
4. I would like to bring you food, who should I talk to about this?
(Bonus points if through asking around you've already coordinated with others to find out what is needed, to not repeat a dish, to find a convenient time to drop it off, and to make something that can stay frozen for a while)
5. I went through something similar, and while I don't know exactly what you're going through, I know it must suck.
6. If you want company, I am happy to come and just sit/walk/be with you. Call me any time.
(Bonus points if you make it clear there's no pressure to call)
^It's also super helpful to follow up any of these phrases by letting the grieving person know that you don't expect them to reply any time soon. That you understand they must be overwhelmed, that you want them to do whatever they need to do to cope, that you're there if they want you to be and not if they don't. This communicates that you are recognizing their time of crisis and placing their need to cope over your need to feel like a good friend/family member/what-have-you. Everyone processes grief in unique ways, and often in different ways throughout the hours, weeks, days, months, and years after the loss.
Speaking on my own experience... When I got the news that Maggie died, I cried alone in my room for a short time before knocking on my roommate's door and waking her up. She gave me a really big hug and said she was so sorry and didn't ask me any questions at all, which was what I needed at that time. She is a blessing. At a certain point, I did want to discuss details about that terrible night, but when it felt like I was swirling into a dark hole was not that time. She is one of the friends who has listened to me many times since then, and she's also helped in really tangible ways like bringing me pants which I forgot to pack in my daze of shock.
In the days that followed, despite the fact that I am usually quite extroverted, I found it really difficult to be around more than a few people at a time. I was so exhausted trying to manage my own emotions, that I felt it nearly impossible to try to help others manage their emotions as well. Even though I didn't need to manage their emotions- many didn't need or want me to- unfortunately it's a part of my personality that was difficult to get past at the time, and so I didn't accept many offers for company. I ignored texts and calls from people who I love who love me. It was just too much. I asked a best friend to be there with me nearly constantly for the week between Mag's death and the memorial service. She's definitely awesome, and she's experienced the loss of a close family member as well, but it wasn't that she had some magic words that others didn't have, and it wasn't because I loved her better than my other friends. It was simply reactionary, it was what made sense to me at the time, it was what felt tolerable, what felt helpful. She put food on my plate that she knew I would like, and threw it away for me when I couldn't eat it. She proofread the words I wrote to be read at the service. She handed me tissues, she sat in silence, she cried with me, she watched episodes of HGTV on Netflix with me. She talked to our other friends for me and updated them, and she stacked cards for me to read when I was ready. She is a blessing. And so are the many who reached out that I was not able to connect with at that time. It was incredibly humbling to, in the midst of the hardest part of my life thus far, be contacted by literally hundreds of people who wanted to express their condolences, offer their help, let me know they were praying and thinking and caring for me. In the months since then I hope I've been able to thank everyone personally who reached out (if I missed you, please know I do appreciate your care!).
A couple of my friends have joked with me that I should write a book about all of this. And maybe someday I will. I've read some good blogs and books, but I've stumbled across little that deals specifically with losing someone to suicide, very little that deals with losing a sibling to suicide (usually focused on losing a child to suicide), and almost nothing on losing a younger sibling to suicide (a few I've found were younger sibs grieving a lost older sib). It is true that loss is loss- while each is unique, there are some deep similarities in the human experience with grief that transcend the specifics. Maybe someday I'll use pieces of these blog posts to form a larger piece. I've also been collecting brilliant quotes and lyrics from others that bring me comfort, and maybe sometime I'll compile those into a post too.
For now, I just wanted to get these thoughts and lessons written down, and say that I SO appreciate the folks in my life who are muddling through all of this with me. Seriously appreciate. I cannot express in words how valuable it is to have people in my life who are totally comfortable laughing and crying with me, even in the span of just a few minutes.
I am so blessed. Thank you to everyone who is learning, with me, to enter into the pain and the joy of our own lives and the lives of people we love, and to do it with as much grace as humanly possible.
~~~~
"I did not go through pain and come out on the other side; instead, I lived in it and found within that pain the grace to survive and eventually grow. I did not get over the loss of my loved ones; rather, I absorbed the loss into my life, like soil receives decaying matter, until it became a part of who I am. Sorrow took up permanent residence in my soul and enlarged it."
-from "A Grace Disguised" by Jerry Sittser
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