Between 3pm-3:30pm exactly one year ago today, one phone call catapulted me toward the worst and most trying year of my life. While driving from Northeast Methodist Hospital to Stone Oak Hospital, my routine split shift working as a hospital chaplain, my mom asked me to go to Main Methodist in the Medical Center. My cousin had been admitted to the ER. I imagined I would go, show support and pray with my aunt and my cousin’s wife, and then return to Stone Oak. My plan never panned out.
My cousin never left the hospital alive.
In a matter of weeks, I lost my uncle, my cousin’s father, and my maternal grandmother. Then, on June 15, my ex-husband died, sending me into a deep, downward spiral of depression.
I took a six week leave of absence from work. Before I left, COVID-19 was relatively contained – at least at my hospitals. When I returned, the pandemic was rampant everywhere and took over all of our lives, adding to the stress and anguish I was already experiencing. (If anyone wants to doubt the reality of COVID, then and now, come talk to me and let me enlighten you.)
Anyway, I have been asked many times how I cope.
In some ways, I am still learning to cope. There is a psychological phenomenon about the three years of the grief cycle. This years marks one year, a time when I am consistently looking back to what was – what a difference one year makes. There is a book called The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma by Bessel van der Kolk. Briefly, whether or not we remember traumatic events, our body and mind do and react accordingly. So, if I seem more tense and/or distracted over the next month or so, this is why. My body is reacting to the trauma from last year.
I cope in other ways as well.
Ice cream is my friend. Luckily, I have been able to tame that elephant with a few other self-coping skills. I treat myself to a massage once a month. I work out at 9Round, which is a wonderful way to be able to safely punch and kick out my emotions before they build up too much.
On the way home from work after a stressful day, I blare Bon Jovi on the radio.
Every day after any shift, I isolate myself for at least one hour and watch Hallmark’s the Good Witch, a habit that began after Brad died and has yet to grow old. The residents of Middleton are my happy place.
There is one episode of the Good Witch when Sam explains to Cassie how it feels to lose a patient – it’s like you are being ripped open from the inside out. On those kinds of days, I take to my heavy bag. I have an aluminum bat that I use to beat the crap out of that bag. I hit it as hard as I can until those emotions are freed and I can cry and yell and talk it out with God.
And . . . my faith. This past year of death and COVID has not been the only time I have met hardships in my life. This just happens to be the worst – and the most life changing and life defining thus far. Through it all, my faith in Jesus Christ carried me through. I would never choose to go through what I went through, but I am glad it did because is has made me who I am today – how I can relate and minister to others in ways I could never do even just one year ago.
My faith is everything. All the remedies I listed above are mere Band-Aids. Jesus is my ultimate and lasting source of healing and strength. He is the star of my show.
When I pray, I end by saying, “I love You. Thank You for loving me more.”
Several seemingly random songs have been stuck in my head lately. The one I leave you with today is by Elton John – I’m Still Standing.
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