Friday, November 1, 2013

Very Very Grey

So this is what it must feel like to be a manic, if I know what it feels like does it mean I am one?  Well I suppose I could add that to my list of the "new" frikn' normal I have to deal with.  Let's see October started off with eleven different pintrest projects.  Each project had at least two different projects that derived from the one.  My dining room is completely revamped with five projects started and of course not completed and three completed (victory).  I was super happy at a garage sale when the lady was practically giving her stuff away.  I stocked up on some furniture and Annie Sloane paint.  I spent a lot of time in the garage painting to run from the silence, the heaviness, to completely avoid any prospect of a crash.  I mean seriously my garage looks like it threw up an antique store / salvation army.  There is something about finding a picture of something I like, rooting through the stuff I mostly already have and allowing my imagination to take it's own course.  This somehow makes life easier for the in between that is now where I find myself stuck.  I am so grey, so very very grey.  My faith, ask me today how feel, what I think, what I know, and the answer will be different tomorrow.  Kelsie, am I ok?  Today, maybe, tomorrow probably not, but I have mastered the art of silent grief and you will never know If am crumbling or put together.   I grieve in silent loneliness.

When these lyrics surrounded my heart this morning after I dropped Dylan off at school

Now I know God has His reasons
But sometimes it's hard to see them
When I awake and find that you're not there
You found hope in hopeless
Your made crazy sane
You became the missing link
That helped me break my chains

And I bless the day I met you
And I thank God that He let you
Lay beside me for a moment that lives on
And the good news is I'm better
For the time we spent together
And the bad news is you're gone
The bad news is you're gone

~Diamond Rio

I lost it.  The heartache, the reality, the prospect of the crash hit me.  The irony...  The pain that I had ran from for the last 31 days felt really good, relief, a release of pressure.  I embraced it, let the tears come.  I drove around and around not wanting to stop.  I pulled over in a church parking lot and just sat there with the pain.  I didn't pray for it to stop, I didn't pray for comfort or peace, I needed this pain.  I needed this pain to remind me of how much I LOVE my daughter, how much I MISS her.  The pain is my love, and  to love her so deeply is to hurt just as deep.  That's the beauty of grief.  We all want to pray the pain away but the truth is you CAN'T and quite honestly in my experience God doesn't take it away.  I wish people who haven't lost could get this, our strength isn't in our smile but in our pain.  The joy you feel each time you hold your child is the same as the pain we feel each time the missing takes over, we wouldn't want to pray that joy away.  Our love is expressed through our grief, that's why it never ever goes away, we never ever stop loving our child.  The whole world can avoid saying her name, avoid any conversation about her but my heart, my thoughts are never ever without her.   Grief is an expression of our love, and if God made us with this intense unavoidable emotion than why do we consistently label it as "bad".   I guess I spent 31 days trying my best to avoid it so today I say the pain is ok, but yesterday I was running...grey...very very grey. 

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