I’m in a transitional season, a time of waiting. Usually I’m pretty good at seeing positive things in where I am and doing what I can here. But… there are also hard days.
I’m realizing that we all have them. I don’t know why I thought I was the only one, but I definitely did. I used to be ashamed of it, like I needed to find the good things in it and turn it into a good day because I shouldn’t be having a hard one in the first place.
But I have learned that self-pity is different from grief.
We can grieve a lot more than death. We lose many things over the course of our lives, and those losses are painful, even if it seems like they shouldn’t be as painful as they end up to be. I lost a lot of things when I entered this waiting season. I lost the life I thought I was going to lead; I lost a few dreams; I lost dynamics I had with people; I lost a lifestyle I didn’t know I’d loved so much. Those are painful losses, life-changing losses. And if I have days where I have absolutely no desire to leave my bed, where the only thing I can do is watch sappy films, where I’m restless inside for no reason I can pin-point– that’s okay. It’s normal to have days like that when you’re grieving; it’s healthy. I don’t have to make myself more positive, or turn the day into a better one, or drag myself into doing things I don’t have the internal energy to do, or be angry at myself for not being able to function very well. We wouldn’t ask people in the midst of grief to do those things.
Yet here I am, dealing with loss– asking those things of myself.
Grief is okay. Grief is a necessary piece of being alive. It isn’t simply wallowing in sadness– it’s the process of dealing with everything that comes to us in times of loss. We cannot deny ourselves the time we need to grieve. This season of waiting is seriously hard sometimes. But I am starting to see that maybe He isn’t giving me a new direction yet because I need to grieve what I’ve lost before I can accept and pursue something new. I pray every day that He would lead me into grieving well.
[I’ve been reading “Emotionally Healthy Spirituality” by Peter Scazzero this year, and grieving things lost is what the entirety of chapter seven is about. I recommend this book more than I have ever recommended one before; it is permanently changing the way I treat my thoughts and feelings.]
Knowing that I am grieving, and knowing that we all have hard days, has encouraged me to be more honest about where I am and to learn how to handle it in the best way possible for me. It also makes me want to share what I’ve learned so far with the people around me, because I continually discover that they have hard days, too. We all do. And that means we never have to be alone. We get to share with each other. So, please, may I share some of the things I’ve learned with you?
It is okay to say that today is one of the hard days. I know that it’s harder to do than it seems. We don’t want to label it because we want it to get better, but that’s the thing: saying, “I’m having a hard time right now,” is not at all the same as saying, “Things are not going to get better.” Hope is huge, and something we need. But admitting where you are doesn’t mean you don’t have legitimate hope for where you’re going to be. The problem with not understanding this is that it tends to not allow us to be honest with ourselves about what’s really going on; it puts us in denial. Saying, “I’m okay,” when we’re not is so much worse than honestly admitting, “I’m not okay right now.” Have hope, yes! I pray hope over your life! But it’s okay to have hope in the midst of pain. That’s where hope thrives.
It is hugely important to feel what I feel. I’ve written about this before, but I cannot stress enough: please do not bottle your feelings. Feeling your emotions to the hilt does not mean that you have given them control over you. Feelings are reactions, and it is not only healthy, but wise to at least hear them out. “I have a lot of anger inside me right now. What has triggered it? What would help me find resolution for the cause of it?” Your feelings can almost be like clues on a map that help get you where you need to go. It is not wrong to feel the way you do. It’s okay to feel negative feelings; just don’t allow them to influence your behavior into negative actions.
“We ought to listen to our emotions before we start preaching to them.” –Adam S. McHugh
It is so helpful to tell someone when I’m having a hard day. I have a few friends I know I can message any time, and they will listen to me and have genuine love for me and pray for me the rest of that day. It keeps me out of denial when I talk to them, reminds me of reality and that it isn’t all bad. Their words of love and their prayers, even if they don’t always make the present moment better, give me the assurance that people are walking beside me, with their arms around me, helping me stand when I’m tired inside. One of my favorite poems at the moment expresses it so beautifully:
It’s okay if, try as I might, I can’t get any art out on hard days. Yeah, it’s hard when I don’t feel at all creative, because creating is one of the biggest reasons I know Jesus has me where I am. But the thing about grief is that sometimes it steals energy from you, makes you lethargic and internally shriveled. That’s normal, I’ve come to understand. And saying, “Okay, nothing I’ve tried is remotely working out, so I need to stop today,” is so much different than giving up. If doing something you normally love doing just has no appeal on the hard days, you are not obligated to do it. It’s okay to take a day off. Your emotional health is important, more important than a task being completed. Do what you can, listen to your limits. And one off day does not mean you’re not capable or that you’re not doing well. You’re probably doing better than you think. Just try again tomorrow.
It’s okay if not everyone is supportive. I knew months ahead of time that I would be in this place, so I had time to solidify what I knew in my core before I had to announce it to anyone. Do I recommend waiting as long as I did? Hahaha– no. But I do recommend that you sit down with yourself and build your foundation out of what you know. What has Jesus made so clear to you? What does He say about where you are? What is He asking you to do? Know those things. Because I was completely sure of those things and placed them immovably as a piece of my foundation, when I told other people what I was doing, their opinion on it came second. People I love and look up to and respect don’t see the sense in what I’m doing; have written me e-mails saying not to; have looked down on me. But I simply cannot take any of that to heart. I know what He said. I am firmly planted in it. I still love and respect those people, but it’s okay if this is an area I can’t take their guidance in. The Lord is my guide, and if I know what He said, I have to acknowledge when some people in my life cannot speak into my situation this time. It doesn’t mean they can’t give me wise counsel again; it just means that I’m listening to Him before I listen to them.
And for every person who doesn’t understand or doesn’t support me, there are so many more rooting for me. I have beautiful people in my life who write to me sometimes just to ask, “How are the open seas right now?”, who call to see how I’m doing and say that they are excited for me, who tell me I can succeed at what I’m called to, who even offer to hang out with me on hard days. You have those people, too. It just takes patience and courageous honesty to find out who they are sometimes.
“Grief and praise go hand-in-hand.” I watched a video about grieving, and that was something he said in it. I don’t think the video was from a Christian standpoint, but this statement carries double meaning for anyone who knows Jesus, definitely. The way he meant it, he elaborated, was that we need to appreciate the things we’ve lost. It’s okay remember them fondly.
I remember what it was like to think I had my life figured out; I remember what it was like to believe that a few particular things could be part of my life; I remember every single day I spent with the people I love, and all the laughter, stories, and tears we shared; I remember the small joys in the old routines I partook in every day. I remember these things, and I smile because they were so good. It’s possible to remember them and how good they were without taunting myself with them. No, I’m not getting those things back– but I had them. I had good things, and I am so grateful for the amount of time I got to have them. I miss them, and I’m glad they’re part of my story. Two-part statement, no contradiction, using the word “and” to connect them. I appreciate the things I lost even as I grieve the loss of them.
It’s completely necessary to talk to Him, and there are so many ways to do it. I’m still learning this one, but I promise you: we cannot do this without Him. If I don’t tell Him about what I’m going through, inside and out, everything just becomes blurry and gray and even harder than before. He is here to hold us up, even if we’re angry at Him or incredibly messy or at a loss for anything to say. He’s here to receive us. We must go to Him.