On being sad.

Today, 6 years ago, I entered a new kind of nightmare.  I got the call that my Daddy had died unexpectedly.  There are loads of posts about it here on my blog, I don't need to rehash it in this one.

Six years is a long time.

Six years without his laugh, his kindness, his smile.

Six years without all the bad stuff about him, too... but that's not what my heart holds onto.

In all of the grief workshops/ therapy/ reading I've done in the last six years, I know that everyone grieves in their own way.  That time doesn't exactly heal all wounds.  I know that.  But this yearly loss anniversary caught me by surprise.

Last Sunday as I was driving back into town, I began to ache in an indescribable way.  It was almost a heart pain.  Before I even remembered the week coming up, I attributed it to the stress of what I'd left behind when we went out of town: bills unpaid, a tree that fell on our deck while we were gone, laundry that had to be done.  But as Dan and I began to debrief the anxiety that I was feeling, I realized my body knew the sadness of this upcoming "anniversary" even when my mind hadn't fully processed what was happening.

Dan and I talked about how to handle this week of grief and came up with tangible ways to protect my fragility.  I said "no" to lots of things this week.  I made an appointment to check in with my therapist.  And, I made a reservation at a nearby hotel so that I could cocoon this weekend.

There was a season in our lives when running away from home would not have been possible.  Whether it was that we didn't have the financial resources or that our children couldn't handle me leaving, it just wasn't in the cards.  But now is a different season.  It's still not ideal for me to be gone from my kids.  It's not great that I've missed some things at church this weekend.  I will go home to a potentially chaotic reentry which will undo some of the good self-care I've done this weekend.

But I needed to be sad.

I am not in a bad spot.  My mental health is in a solid place today... there are some days I can't report that with such authority.  But I'm sad.  AND THAT'S OKAY.

It's awkward being sad, you know.  People don't like to be around sad people.  They want to fix it- to make it better.  Often times that comes from the best of intentions... we don't want other people to be lonely or suffer.  But sometimes we want to "fix" their sad because it could potentially rub off on us- and make us sad, too.

Being sad isn't fun.  And staying sad is when things derail.  One wise woman in my life told me that I wasn't just dealing with grief- I was dealing with grief upon grief which can break someone.  There have been moments it's almost broken me.

Last weekend at Why Christian, I heard a minister say words that were life giving to me.  She stated that anxiety and depression aren't a result of something wrong with us- they are often a NATURAL RESPONSE to trauma.  Lord knows I've had trauma.  I lost all 3 of my parents in 5 years.  One right after another.  During those same 5 years, I was caregiver for my Mom as I watched her disease progress and wreck her life.  I was sad.   To add to that pain, I experienced the loss of my known community when we changed churches.  Sad.  I lost friends.  Sad.  And all of that pain changed who I am in some ways.  And during that time, I often stayed sad.

Continual sadness has made me more tender.

It's made me ache.

It's made me sensitive to suffering.

Those aren't bad.

Sometimes, it's caused me depression and anxiety.

Those can be bad.

But today, I'm just sad.

The thing that keeps me whole when I'm sad is those who aren't scared of my sadness.  Those who send me gifts of journals and cookie dough.  Those who send texts and call to let me know they remember the life of my Daddy... and they acknowledge my grief.  Those who let me escape and let me run back to open arms.

This morning I drove past a junkyard while listening to The Wailin' Jennys sing "The Valley".  It was a perfect moment of reflection of what this feels like.  A visual reminder of what the "piling on" looks like.  Grief upon grief.

I live in the hills  

You live in the valley
And all that you know
Are these blackbirds

You rise every morning
Wondering what in the world
Will the world bring today
Will it bring you joy
Or will it take it away?

And every step you take is guided by
The love of the light on the land
And the blackbird's cry

You will walk, you will walk
You will walk in good company

The valley is dark, the burgeoning holding
The stillness obscured by their judging
You walk through the shadows
Uncertain and surely hurting
Deserted by the blackbirds
And the staccato of the staff

And though you trust the light
Towards which you wend your way
Sometimes you feel all that you wanted
Has been taken away

There are days when I'm in the valleys.  And days I'm on the hills.  Through it all, I will try to trust the Light.  That trust may happen while I'm eating spoonfuls of cookie dough... and I think that's okay.

Connection.

I'm currently sitting on my couch... watching Grace and Frankie.

Dan and I started watching it several months ago, and then we never got past the second episode.  It didn't "hook" us like we were hoping.  All of the reviews and hype just didn't click.

Until....

Some time recently I decided to give it another shot.

Something was different.

It clicked.

And it was because I knew it was something my Mom would have enjoyed.

Maybe it was because of 2/3 of "9 to 5" actresses were showing the world that their heyday wasn't over.  Maybe it was because I knew she would cringe and laugh with every moment that they were bashing their exes.  Or maybe the time was just right.

I've recently entered a new phase of looking for- longing for- connection.  Finding something that would bring my Mom... or my Daddy... or Michael, joy.  I enjoyed the BNL concert even more than usual... because of the company, the beer, the music- all because I knew Michael loved each of those things.  I enjoyed buying a new grill because I knew Daddy would want to buy it for us- he actually bought our previous one.  I enjoy wearing earrings of my Mom's because- while she would still be frustrated that I had been in her jewelry box- I long for the connection they bring.

I think this is a normal part of grief.  I think I'm actually in a healthier spot these days- trying to connect with those I've lost.  I feel more like "myself" than I've been in the last 5 years.  It feels good.

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I haven't updated my blog since September.  A lot of that is because of lack of connection.  I attempted to update it in October, but the words were half-assed, the sentiment wasn't genuine.  I wrote out of a sense of obligation, not out of the love of writing.

And this has mimicked itself throughout my life- not just in writing.

A friend said to me last week "I've missed you recently"... Funny, I've missed myself.

In September, right as I was writing my last post, I spiraled.  An off-handed comment from a friend pushed my tentative self right off the ledge of grief.  It has taken me months to claw my way out of that hole.  It's not been a straight up journey- I've fallen back down a time or two.  Hurtful words from people, feeling left out, not having a "place"... those tend to trip me up.

But thanks to the wonders of modern medicine, good therapy, a purpose, a strong church community, and some helpful friends who won't let me fall off the ledge alone... I feel like I'm back.

I've missed connection.

I've wept over friendships that have slowly faded away- ones that I thought would last a lifetime.

We've hosted fewer events in the last 9 months than we ever had... partially because I've started a new job, partially because we have a new dog, and partially because I've been too weary to be social some days.

But that job?  That dog?  They have given me connection.

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I share all of this with you not to make you feel uncomfortable.  It's not to put grief upon you if we have faded apart recently.  But I share this to you to let you know that sometimes when people fade away, they need you to continue to reach out.  They may not respond, they may blow you off, or they may legitimately be too busy/ tired/ whatever to hang out.

But sometimes, as was the case with my buddy Michael, they are on that edge of the hole and just need to know that they are not alone.

That's the whole premise of Grace and Frankie- finding connection when the connection you thought you had is no longer there.  I'm still making amends with my heart and it's broken connections... but even in this bizarre social media connected world, I'm thankful for what connections we have.


Here's hoping you find your Grace (and Frankie), too.

numbers

My life has been dictated by numbers.  Forever.

- The age marker.  At 7, I wanted to be 10.  At 10, I wanted to be 13.  At 13, I wanted to be 16.... it continued until I grasped that the age I am now is all that I'm promised.  I love 38, even though I've only been it for 1 month... because it's all I'm promised.

- The number on my scale.  Contradictory to EVERY person I've ever known who's talked to me about weight loss vs. healthy living, I check my scale often.  My friend Renee used to talk about her weight being "one blank 4", or whatever it was at that moment.  Once I crossed into the triple digits (which was way before my peers did), the number immediately after the "one" was what took up much space in my mind.  If I was at 1_4, I wanted to be 1[ _ - one]4.  Times in my life, that numbers have easily gone down.  Other times they have shamefully gone up.  And the shame is all mine- I guilt myself into thinking I'm measured by that number.  I.  Am.  Not.

- My GPA.  Hallmark created a wonderful card a few years back that said something like "True Life Fact #513... No one cares what your GPA is."  Truth.  No one does... but me.  I struggled for those college years because the number on my transcript wasn't as high as I'd imagined it would be.  I allowed it to convince my mind that I was "less than."  That somehow my worth was tied up in those numbers... and somehow I told myself I wasn't the person I knew myself to be.  Lies.

- The number of things on my to-do list.  I will never, ever, ever have an empty list.  I imagine that on my deathbed I will feel guilty for the things still there... and likely some of those will be thank you notes I've not yet sent.  (I blame my thank you note aversion to my wedding.  True story.)  I have recently allowed myself some grace on my to-do list... and that was only after living through tragedies that gave us clarity about what really matters.

- The number in my bank account.  I have never been one of those people who is a natural saver.  Neither am I constantly concerned about how much money we have- it's not a source of pride for either Dan or myself.  But after our rocky financial road in the first few years of marriage... that number says to me whether or not I am doing something "right".  When our checking account dips low, it brings back deep seeded anxiety that I have failed.  Guilt and shame creep back up over issues that are years behind us.  Ridiculous.

None of the numbers I noted above matter.  NONE OF THEM.  If my to-do list is crazy long and we don't have money for our "wants" and I gain weight... IT IS NOT ETERNAL.  "Ain't no mountain gonna fall" because I send thank you notes late, or because it took me 10 years to graduate, or because I can no longer eat whatever I want (could I ever do that?).  I am a smart woman- and not because my GPA reflected that.  I am wealthy beyond most of the world's population... and I am blessed to never have known the other side.  Some of the numbers above are important- I want to be healthy, I need to keep on top of my list because some of the tasks affect other people, and I want to be a good steward- yet none of them determine my true worth.

And yet there are other numbers that are critical.  Some of our friends are in crisis as one of Dan's oldest friends has had a stroke.  As her husband watches the numbers on her monitors and hears the numbers her physicians report... that matters.  A key number in their life is 5- the number of young children they have and now have to provide for all while sitting bedside with their beloved mother.  Those numbers matter.

In this New Year, I pray that I keep my numbers in check.  Focus on the ones that matter, give grace to the ones that aren't big rocks, and let go of the rest.  I'll pray that for you, too.  And I ask that you keep our sweet friend Cristi and her number one fan, Hoke, in your prayers.  They truly are some of the best people we know and need all of our prayers.  While I don't fully know or understand how prayer works, I know that when we petition God in great number, our hearts are knit together.  And those numbers, indeed, do matter.

(You can keep up with Cristi's progress on her Caring Bridge site here.)

A Change in Heart in 2013

Yesterday morning I was up before my family and had some time alone in our kitchen with my thoughts and the sausage balls I was making.  I was thinking through the "What would a 'best of 2013' blog post look like" and all of the fun things that I would include.  These same thoughts went through my mind as I typed our New Years letter... still with our cards that I'm hoping to finish before the weekend.

It's no surprise that in my heart of hearts I've been in a hard spot these last almost 2 years.  Losing people I love has caused me to lose a a little bit of myself.  While, at first, I was ashamed of what those losses changed me to be, I now embrace the new and am hoping to honor the life with which I'm left.  And don't be distraught!  This will not be a "what I lost" post... but rather a "what we gained" reflection.

Our personal 2013 highlights, in no particular order of importance or calendar dating:

September 24 has become Do Good day- not only for just our family, but for so many who have spread the love in their own circles.  This year was no exception.  We opened our home to locals to join us as we celebrate the Good.  Not only was I floored during the day (Daddy's best friend from home SHOCKED me when she arrived unannounced!), I was amazed throughout that week as I heard stories of people Doing Good.
  * We collected over $500 in gift cards to distribute as needs arise.  We have already given several to families in need of some Good, and have been blown away at the stories of how our friends' generosity has met their need in immediate ways.
  * A friend in Asheville put together a drum kit with the help of local musicians to give to a child who was taking lessons and did not yet have a kit.  While his mother may not see hear the Good always in such a LOUD gift, she was thrilled- as was her son- with such a significant gesture.
  * People sent me story after story that day of paying for others' meals, coffees, groceries in anonymity and how amazing that felt.

Goodness won on September 24.  I invite you to mark your shiny new 2014 calendar with Do Good Day.  I'll be posting again in the month of September to remind you of it.  Let's Do Good throughout this new year.  (And, if it's not too much to ask, I'd love you to message me how your Do Good gesture affected you and/or the recipient.)

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We made it our mission this year to say "yes" to things that would bring us happiness.  Several events led to big smiles for all 3 of our family.  We enjoyed a Disney trip during Star Wars weekend- I've never seen many happy nerds in one place (my two included.) I finally met Jen Hatmaker!  I saw Glennon Doyle Melton twice.  I told Philip Yancey how much I've enjoyed his books through the years.  I had a life-giving conversation in the rain with Frank Schaeffer that I reflect on often.  I went to see my other half in Arizona and experienced some of her life there.  I took part in a Grief group at Sawtooth that was healing to my soul.  I ice skated with my little girl in Rockefeller Center as it snowed.  We saw 5 (ridiculous!) shows on Broadway.  Dan and I shared a meal with his best friend from college (and his gorgeous new bride!) and I saw him grin in a way that I've missed.  We had Camp of Kids again with days full of crafts, snacks, and giggles.  E attended her first "grown up" concert- The Indigo Girls- in an amazing venue with amazing people singing loudly all around.  Dan and I saw the Barenaked Ladies, Guster, and Ben Folds with some of our best friends (and rode home with the top down in a convertible... lovely.)  I then followed up with a second BNL show in which I finally met the band.

As silly as some of those things sound- they restored pieces of my heart that had been knocked away by pain.  While it would likely get me a restraining order, I thought about writing BNL a "fan letter" and telling them how their shows connected me to years gone by and how healing they were in my 2013.  I'll never forget Brad Spires introducing me to them in 1996, and I've listened faithfully for the last 17 years.  Singing songs (loudly) that I loved in my 20s reconnected me to the girl I was then... and for that, I am grateful.

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The turning point in my year happened on June 15.  Just two months prior I had sunk to my lowest of points and grieved in new and painful ways.  That Saturday in June, E and I were doing some grocery shopping when I got a text from a friend.  He asked my opinion on ring sizes for his beloved- and I am not exaggerating at all when I say my heart grew two sizes that day.  I got taken out of my hurt and put in the middle of his joy.  While his reasons for including me in his planning were likely practical, for me it became holy as the Joy began to outweigh the Pain.  I texted him yesterday to tell him that while I joked after that moment that he was "better than Xanax" (or Zoloft, depending on the day) that honestly was not far from the truth.  My life is better because of that day, my 2013 was better because we celebrated their engagement, my 2014 will be better as we celebrate their wedding, and my friends' lives will be better as they will share them in marriage.

"Oh, the feels."

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While your 2014 may not be filled with engagements and concerts and celebrations, I pray that your heart will be filled with moments of joy.  We know that there will be dark days amidst the light ones, but I'm committing to focus on the light this year.  Happy New Year, my friends.

"I know you'd quit your job if I needed you to..."

Back in 2010- the other dark year of recent days- I was lamenting to a friend on the phone about the absence of another friend's "help".  Before you get all "Wow, Becky... that's very 12-year-old-girl of you,"... I KNOW.  I even blogged about my neediness- twice- in 2010.  I won't link them for you because there is no sense in us all going "back there", but I promise, they exist.  I've come to terms with my neediness and gotten over a lot of it.

Anyway, while on the phone with Friend J, I was crying about another friend not "stepping up" to help when I needed her to.  (Let it go, we've moved on.)  I told her- in my very mature way- that I know if I needed her, she was there for me.  And then I said words that she's quoted back to me time and time again... "I mean, I know you'd even quit your job if I needed you to..."

(awkward silence.)

"Um, Becky?  I'm not going to quit my job."

(more awkward silence.)

"Riiight, but you know what I mean, right?  You'd do something drastic if I needed you to."

"Possibly, but I'm not quitting my job."

Well then.  Whoops.  Hey, Needy-2010-Becky... do you hear how this sounds now?  In the moment, I know I meant well.  But reading it now (and reliving it a little) makes me realize just how crazy it sounded.

I figured out this week why that was an example my jacked-up-brain was ready to make.

Not only did my Daddy teach me to live like that (he made lots of self-less decisions for friends... some of them stupid, too)... but I've seen it modeled among my friends.  Specifically, my guy friends.

When I was in high school, I was in State Student Council.  I was fortunate enough to meet people from all over our fine state... we traveled together, laughed together, and became life-long friends in the truest sense.  There are a couple of these friends I talk to on a monthly basis... and you'd have no idea we formed a friendship from only seeing each other three or four times a year.

Mars Hill 50th Anniversary

When I got to Carolina, I had several "ready made" friends.  We all were excited to see each other on a more regular basis than our previous geographically challenged lives made possible.

1992, our schools being inducted as officers

We met each other's friends.  Our worlds blended together quickly.  Two friends in particular- Lee and George- sucked us in to their friend world almost immediately.  I spent more time with this crowd of guys than I should have... and beautifully never crossed over the awkward male/female friend line with any of them.  I may or may not have made an idiot out of myself several times in front of many of them... but in that beautiful way that allows you to stay close to guys later in life... "back in the day" lines were never crossed.

I had met lots of Lee and George's friends in high school.  Those I hadn't met yet quickly became friends at UNC.  In fact, there were only 2 from their high school crowd I didn't know.  Dan Johnston... and a guy named Ben who ended up in our wedding.  Well, and there was Spirko who I kind of assumed was a figment of their imagination, but that's a story for another day.  This group of guys was "special"... they spent a lot of time together, did anything for each other, and put each other's needs ahead of their own.

One of our many trips to Bubs... Dan's glasses are awesome.

After graduation, these guys continued to stay connected... and continued to get together way more than any other guys I know.  And they continued to love big.  Lee and Erik drove to Mars Hill to attend my Grandmother's funeral.  I'm not sure I even knew they were coming... I just looked up in the receiving line and saw faces from "home".  (I do remember trying to explain to my Uncle Bud that I wasn't dating either one of them, but that, yes, they should stay to join us for the Family Luncheon.)  Erik donned a camp and gown and walked with me at my belated graduation.  And that graduation wouldn't have happened if George hadn't gone out of his way to help me stand up for my asthmatic-rights over the years.  All of those guys came to visit me time after time in the hospital- we way extending visiting hours and numbers of people allowed in a hospital room.  I so benefited being part of this larger "family" community- at Carolina and beyond.*

13 days ago, I woke up to frantic texts, missed phone calls, and Facebook messages of these guys trying to get in touch with me.  Two of them left voicemails I won't likely forget that said almost word for word the same thing: "Becky, Lee is very sick.  Very sick.  I need you to call me."  Lee, the Great Connector of this motley crew of boys, had developed the flu and pneumonia and had been Life Flighted to UNC Hospital during the late night hours of New Years Eve.  I'll let you catch up on the details on his CaringBridge site rather than retelling them here, but I'll sum it up like this-  Lee is still very sick.  He is doing incredibly well given what the doctors saw 2 weeks ago.  His wife, Emily,is truly one of the strongest women I've ever known.  And please keep her in your prayers- she is seven months pregnant (and has two little kids at home.)

And here's why I have such high expectations of friendship-- those guys have loved Lee and his family well.  They have surrounded them both physically and emotionally in these long, scary days.  They have rearranged work schedules (none have outright quit that I know about... yet...) and obligations to make sure that Lee's family knows they are there to help.  They are being the boys they have always been and loving each other well.  The same guys who drank a lot of beer together in college are making sure the ICU waiting room is well stocked in food and drink (Diet Sundrop, to be exact.)  The same ones who camped out for basketball tickets together are standing in the room with one of their dearest friends and... you guessed it... watching ESPN with him now.  And because they love a good party, they are dreaming up a bash to celebrate Lee pulling through this.

the first picture I have of Lee... JTHHS, May 1991

Being fully immersed in this kind of love has given me lots of clarity recently.  It makes me grateful I've lived in this community of friends for over 21 years now.  (Lee and I are just months short of knowing each other 22 years!)  It's made me realize that my expectations of friendship have been made from seeing friendships lived out among Lee and "his guys".  I'm fortunate that I continue to get to be a part of that world... and I'm hoping all of you know that kind of self-sacrificing friendship, too.  It'll change your life.

Daddy's Celebration of Life, Summer 2012

*I would be remiss to not include the girls that were part of this group of guys.  Several became part of "the guys" after marriage, but one in particular- Mary- has been there from the get-go.  She spent her fair share of time with me in my hospital days, too... and I seem to remember she and I had the lovely duty of helping these boys clean out their refrigerators a time or two.  She has carried a heavy load of coordinating care for the Conners... and for that, we are grateful.