First
day back at work since May 31 – technically since May 30. On May 31 I had a
panic attack after my car had a flat tire – the final blow which paralyzed me
in grief.
We
said goodbye to my cousin the following Thursday and then to my grandma this
past Monday. I initially took time off because of COVID and my lack of social
distancing at the funerals. It turns out, I needed this break – both mentally
and emotionally.
While
I was off, I checked out of my life. No work, no church, no ministry
whatsoever. The only thing I kept up was school and the only reason I kept up
with this is because that temporary grief paralysis kept me from being able to
figure out how to drop the class. Then, I found the class to be a good
distraction.
As
long as I kept myself checked out of my life, I could breathe. I went jogging,
cleaned the house, did school work, and binge watched, again, the Good Witch. I
found comfort in a beloved, safe, and familiar story. I had/have trouble
sleeping because as soon as the television is off and the lights are out, the
panic creeps back in. Then, as soon as Bailey wakes me in the morning, the
panic returns if I try to go back to sleep in the silence.
The
Good Witch – oh what a blessing and a curse that show has turned out to be. I
am in love with Sam and he is not even real. Most of the time, sappy romances
repulse me. With the exception of the Hallmark Christmas movies, I am not into
love stories. I find them unreal and way too sappy for my taste. What is it
about Sam and Cassie that captures my heart and longing so much and leaves me
feeling that sense of ambivalent ambiguity?
I
see a lot of myself in Sam. He is a very practical man and extremely gun shy
about relationships. He has been through a very bad divorce and vowed to never
fall in love again or get married. Then, he meets his neighbor. In the first
three seasons, we see him struggle within himself – the contradiction between
his developing feelings for her and his beliefs about himself and
relationships. Cassie comments that one thing she loves about him is that he is
not quick to come to any conclusion. When he says something, he means it. So,
when he finally tells Cassie he loves her, we see him struggle, but we know
it’s true. We knew it was true before he even said it, but him saying it out
loud to her is a huge deal.
No
matter what he feels for her, he remains adamant against marriage. When he and
Cassie finally have that talk, he explains his thoughts – he was bad at it and
afraid he will be no better with her and will end up ruining a good thing. We
see him work through his doubts and fears until he comes to the moment when he
spontaneously asks Cassie to marry him. We can see his brain working through
what it means to marry her and how it is a lot more simple than he has made it
out to be. We see his trepidation and absolute assurance that this is right.
Oh, it is such a beautiful moment. Precious and heartwarming.
I
am just like Sam in this way. It makes me wonder if there is hope for me - if there is a great love out there waiting
for me. I used to say the perfect man would be someone I loved like Brad and
liked like Mike. Does that man actually exist? Is there still hope?
Then
the flipside of these thoughts – I DO NOT WANT A RELATIONSHIP. I have come to
terms with my singleness and actually embrace it. I see my life going the
Pauline route. I have plans and a relationship does not fit into that
whatsoever. Before May 31, I was absolutely content with my Pauline choice.
In
the almost 10 years since my divorce, I have had feelings for people in the
past and I have thanked God for them not working out. One
turned out to be quite the jerk, another never knew how I felt about him, and
the third simply was not into me. Had any of these worked out, that would have
put me in a quandary I do not want to be in. That would have complicated my
plans. I have since overcome those crushes and have been eternally grateful to
God for getting me past these.
As
a matter of fact, when I am not in Sam and Cassie fantasy land, I am repulsed
by the idea of relationships. In fact, it took COVID to convince me of the
reality of my situation and to find healing, wholeness, confidence, and
contentment in who I am and where I thought God was leading me.
Then,
there’s Cassie. She is so different, so put together, so sure of herself and
the world around her, and so beloved by so many. As anyone who has watched the
Good Witch from the beginning would know, this was not always the case. In
fact, when she first arrived in Middleton, she was suspect and people tried to
run her out of town. Over time, however, the town grew to appreciate her
uniqueness and to adore her. I want to be like Cassie.
Here's
the confusion – post COVID, I felt like I have simply been going through the
motions, quite unsure about most things. During the first few months of COVID,
I discovered a voice and strength I did not know I had or had been buried for a
very long time. Now, in the midst of undefined grief, I feel lost – that
horrible sense of lost footing, wading through quicksand, wondering which way
is forward, which way is up, who I am and where I belong. I am in a fog and
none of my usual coping techniques have helped.
Jogging
helps a little. At least for the duration, my breathing is regulated, but
afterwards, if I fail to switch gears fast enough, the sense of a pending panic
attack returns.
Ice
cream, which usually gives me the warm fuzzies, makes me feel nauseated just
thinking about it.
Not
even writing has helped. Until today, whenever I sit down to write, nothing
comes out. All these thoughts race inside my head, but as soon as I sit down to
give them organization and voice, nothing comes. I sit staring at a blank
screen.
So,
I elect to take my own advice – the advice I give to patients and families –
the advice I gave to my own family – I am trying to be patient with myself and
allow myself to feel what I feel – or in this case, to not feel what I do not
want to feel – thus, taking time to disconnect from my normal life and
responsibilities and turn off my head and my heart – to not allow myself to be
needed because I have nothing to give.
Ever
since this past autumn, every aspect of my life – my classes, my job, my ministry,
COVID – has been training me to pay more attention to my heart, get in touch with
my emotions, learn how to read mine and others emotions – in essence, to open
the heart as well as the head. It has been overwhelming at times, and after the
events of the past few weeks, it has become too much. I have needed a break
from feeling and I finally took that break.
But,
being at home, out of my routine, fighting to keep the head and heart turned
off proved to be a painful and tedious process. I wanted to come back to work
and they let me come back – with the contingency that I check in with myself
and with my manager, knowing that this job is not just any job. Being a
chaplain can create triggers.
I
have learned about this, too, over the past year. What is in play now is the
knowledge that it is okay to cry with a patient. It can also be great for them
or their families to see me cry. The problem becomes when the visit becomes
about me and not them, when they have to console me. This has not been an
issue, and since I have this head awareness, I hope that my heart pays close
attention. Hence, their concern for me to stay in touch with my own emotions,
well-being, and triggers.
Being
back at work has not been easy. I knew there would be no going back to the way
things were. Today was not going to be a typical Friday. This ambivalent ambiguity would be right there at the surface. Can I handle it?
Most
Fridays are a slow start, beginning at 7am with prayer and meetings. Easing back
was good although the panic started almost immediately. First, the simple
realization during my prayer time that there was no hiding away today. If I
chose to work, I must face myself and all of the emotional baggage that comes
with it. I must arm myself for whatever may come.
I
took more of my own advice by practicing the breathing prayer – focus on a deep
breath through my nose, imagining that I am breathing in the Holy Spirit. Then,
breathing out through my mouth, as much as I
can, fully emptying my lungs and imagining that I am breathing out all
the negative, even naming it if I can.
This
helped, and I was as ready as I could be, knowing that I was still in a fog and
just on the edge of okay.
Then,
I began as I usually do by rounding in the ER. I could not get out of there
fast enough. All the beeping of the machines transported me back to the
Saturday in the ER with my cousin. All I could hear were those machines. All I
could see were his wide eyes bugging out as if in pain and overcome by fear.
His eyes were briefly replaced by images of my aunt and my cousin’s wife. I
could feel their pain as if it were my own.
I
had to return to the chapel to breathe. I had to remove the mask we have to wear at the hospital so that I
could breathe better. Finally, the words came. I sat and wrote in my emotions
journal, trying to name every emotion I was feeling and why. All the faces
swimming before my eyes – Sam, Cassie, - and Michelle.
In
the episode when Sam proposes to Cassie, Sam’s sister is visiting. She
questions Sam’s insistence on not getting married. She never married herself
and tells Sam that she never married because she never found someone like
Cassie. They were good together and if she had ever found what he had, she
would never let it get away.
In
that same episode, Cassie was tasked with finding a reading for a friend’s
wedding. From the season 3 finale:
“They
are about to say 'I do', three little letters, two little words.
Its
the simplest part of the day; but there is nothing simple about the things that
will remain unsaid.
'I
do' means I do know I could be hurt, but I am ready to be healed with you.
It
means I do want to try, even when the fear of failure holds me back.
And
I do not know the future, but I am ready to be surprised along the way.
'I
do' means I do want your love & I do give you mine.
And
nothing we do will ever be the same, because we will be doing it all together.”
Hearing
these words is what really gets Sam thinking beyond his own fears. Those words
rang true with me as well - at least the reasons I shy away from any notion of ever saying 'I do' again.
We
are doing a 40 day fast in my church. I elected to fast from ice cream and most
social media. When temptation strikes, we are supposed to echo the words of
Samuel, “Here I am. I’m listening.” I have tried my best to participate in
spite of my current state.
Giving
up ice cream and social media has been easy. As I stated earlier, I am
nauseated by the thought of ice cream and it is very easy to disconnect from
the pedantic fluff of social media. My only peace right now is the predictability
of my make believe shows which I have already seen.
What
is challenging is to be still and tell God, “I’m here. I’m listening.” I do
try, though, at least once a day. One day, while jogging, I realized my biggest
reason for never putting myself “out there” is my paralyzing fear of romantic
relationships. Like Sam, I was bad at it and don’t know if I am capable of
doing better in different circumstances with someone else. Like Sam, I don’t
want to chance hurting someone I care about by messing it up again.
The
good news is that there is no Cassie in my life to force such a decision upon
me. As a matter of fact, when I am not getting lost in the unfolding story of
my favorite couple, the idea of being in a romantic relationship like that
repulses me more than the idea of ice cream.
But,
if a Cassie were to suddenly appear, would/could I be brave enough to take a
chance? It would appear that the only fear I have in my life right now (with
the exception of snakes, heights, and enclosed spaces) is a romantic relationship.
Then
there is Michelle, my cousin’s wife. Her grief is more intense than I could
ever imagine. Before giving my grandma’s eulogy, I felt the need to address my
family. I improvised and shared with them something I often share with grieving
families – about pain and suffering:
We
are often told that God will not give us more than we can handle. This is a
lie. All we have to do is look within our own hearts to know that is a lie.
What is true, what I can promise, is that God will never give us more than HE
can handle. So, when the grief gets to be too much, look up, hold on, allow
yourself to feel what you feel and be patient with yourself.
I
said a little more than that and used my “preacher” tone, but as I spoke, I
watched certain family members and could see what was connecting with them. Michelle
was crying a lot when I explained how our grief can be too much for us to
handle. We had just said goodbye to her husband days before and now here we
were saying goodbye to another family member. It was too much.
I
have been thinking about Michelle and Andy since then – the words she spoke at
his funeral, watching her grief throughout the entire hospital stay and death
and funerals. To grieve much is to have loved much and Michelle loved much.
Grief
– right now, it is all simply too much. I cannot understand the why of any of it.
At my aunt’s house after my cousin’s funeral, when we found out that a third
family member had just died, the question of why came up again. We human beings
want answers. We long to know some kind of reason to explain away our pain. As
I told my family, sometimes, there simply is no explainable reason. Please do
not ever tell a grieving person any of the horrible clichés: God needed them, they
are in a better place, etc. It is all a load of garbage and does nothing to help the
one grieving. Instead,, admit when you do not have the answers. Be honest. Say little. Love much. (another piece of advice from
me, the chaplain)
I
don’t quite understand it all. As has been told to me many times over the past
year, crisis comes for me when my head cannot explain away my heart or
circumstances. I cannot make sense of anything right now.
When
Cassie found out that Sam never intended to get married again, Cassie went to
Chicago to visit a friend. During tea, the friend commented on Cassie’s ability
to sense when things were going to happen. She said that sometimes, Cassie
should just live in the moment and let the future surprise her. So, that is
what she did.
I
have no idea why all these ambiguous feelings about a love that is not even on
the horizon is causing me so much turmoil, but I’m betting it has something to
do with Andy and Michelle and seeing so much of myself in a fictional
character. I’m sure the ambiguity of feeling lonely but not wanting anyone
around has added to it all - and a longing for an unknown something that is just out of reach.
What
I do know is that I could not work a full day today. I was scheduled to work
until 3pm, but I asked to leave when another chaplain came in at 1pm. The ER
triggers and the extreme difficulty in simply pasting on a fake smile and
pretending to be happy and praying for others when I felt lost in a fog was too
much. I felt the tension build in my shoulders and the heat rise in my chest.
The
wonderful thing of being present for half the shift, at least, was that it
helped me to be able to sit down and write when I got home. Coming home to my
baby girls and getting this jumble of a mess out of my head has brought me some
much needed therapy and peace. I still cannot make sense out of it all, but to be perfectly
honest, I don’t feel a need to make sense of it all. Emotions are messy – even my
own – maybe especially my own. Things do not always fit nicely into a box.
Sometimes the bottom falls out and the contents spill all over the place.
Yesterday,
I took a break from Sam and Cassie to watch a video by Tony Evans. I had seen
part of it, but missed the end. The end was the best.
He
compared the junk of life to a treadmill. He says that every morning, he has to
have a heart to heart to heart with “me, myself, and I.” He wants to be healthy
and lose weight, but he does not want to get out of bed. He finally does and
finally gets on the treadmill. He watches the news to distract him while he
runs. Watching the news does not keep him from sweating and huffing and
puffing. What it does, though, is distract him. If he only focused on the sweat
and breathing and pain, he would never get through the workout. He would probably never even get out of bed.
So
it is with life. We have to keep our focus on Jesus. Our circumstances will not
change, but if we look only to our circumstances, we will never get through to
the other side. Our only hope is to keep looking up and we keep walking through
the fire.
I
have no idea how long this journey of grief will last. What I do know is that I
have more tools in my toolbox to help me get through it than I did the last
time I went through a dark period. My education and training prepared me for
this. One of my dear friends recently reminded me that simply because he does
not tell me all the time, and years can go by between visits, he thinks about
me often. Being reminded of this reminds me that I am not alone no matter how
lonely I may feel. I know people who will come running if I call. I know who I
can count on for support. Most of all, I know whose I am. I know, as long as I
keep looking up, I will get through this.
I
hold onto the truth that the Holy Spirit lives in me and prays for me on my
behalf when I do not know what to say. I know I am held. I know there is a
season for everything and that one day soon, I will walk into a patient’s room,
smile, laugh, pray, and mean it!
