What grief has taught me about God's capacity to care

Many of you may have seen a couple of "tribute" posts I've made on Facebook recently regarding the the passing of my Uncle Gary.  I'm going to miss him quite a bit.....but my heart breaks for those who are even much more closer to him, particularly his immediate family and most obviously, my Aunt, whom has been near and dear to my heart since she became my pen pal when I was little kid.

I've always had a very empathetic heart that grieves and feels strongly when those I love are hurt in some way.  It impacts my whole self and completely overwhelms me.  That being said, worrying and grieving for my aunt of the loss of her husband has been incredibly difficult these past few days.

The thought struck me.....if I am this overwhelmed and impacted....how does God feel?  I can only imagine how my aunt and my Uncle's children and grandchildren are feeling in these busy days and quiet nights, but God knows very intimately how they feel, how must His heart hurt and He even knows ALL the grief around the entire world.

I often think of God's power in physical form....his ability to heal illness...His creation....but I often don't think of God as an emotional being and since we are created in God's image and because Jesus walked among us...I believe that He knows the emotional limits and intensity of human emotion, and I also believe that HE experiences intense emotions as well. Which makes me go back to that earlier thought....God knows ALL the grief around the world, yet He has to continue doing all of the amazing and wonderful things He does for us each day (whereas my response is to find my favorite blanket and ice cream and create a cocoon for myself on the couch).  This made me realize something I haven't thought of before...God's amazing capacity for emotion....and his amazing capacity to love and support our emotions.

I used to feel guilty about my prayers knowing that there were others out there dealing with harder issues than myself.  How could I pray for God to help me lose weight when there were millions of starving children?  How could I pray for patience with my children when there are millions of children in abusive homes?  And now I realize that I can pray for God's help in my somewhat simple life because he has the capacity to care for ALL of us.  He has the capacity for joy and grief that is immeasurable.  Just as he knows the number of hairs on our heads he knows what's causing our hearts to leap and to break.  And by not praying for what I believe to think is "not something God would care about" is telling God that I don't think He is powerful enough to help me.  I've never thought of that message before that I have been sending God all of these years....and I pray that He forgives me for treating Him in that way.

I think we limit God...I think we try to make Him human.  Where do you limit God's power in your life?

12th Anniversary reflection on Marriage

I've figured out that I'm not a procrastinator.  

I'm a hyper-focuser.  I don't even know if that's a real word, but too bad, because that's what I am.  

I tend to have spontaneous bursts of hyper-focus that have somehow carried me through my life and my achievements and I'd say overall it's not a bad thing.  Some people could claim it's called "Works good under pressure", but that's not it, it's much more than that.

I hyper-focus on my actions, and I hyper-focus on my thoughts.  But again, these are bursts of hyper-focus, (and we're not talking about something like that movie Limitless so just calm down), not sustained hyper-focus.  

Why am I writing this?  Because on the eve--or crazy early morning of---my 12th anniversary I've come to the exhausted realization that this trait I have has impacted my marriage, for better or for worse (pun pretty much intended).  

My grandmother used to have a lighted mirror on her vanity table in her bedroom.  On one side was a regular mirror.  I'd go in there, use her brush thinking it was probably had some sort of magical super powers and feeling slightly guilty for using it, and look into the mirror, smile, and think "Hey! Not bad!" But then I'd flip the rotating mirror to the other side, the side that had some sort of magnification power and I'd say "GAH!!!  GROSS!!" I didn't realize that pores could be that huge, or that zit was even there, and...wait...is that a HAIR?! What am I? A MAN?"  And I would quickly then move the mirror back to its "normal" state feeling a bit exposed and a lot more worse about myself.  

That magnified mirror is what I do to my marriage.  I spontaneously hyper-focus on all of the messy and less-important details and I say, "GAH!!  What have I done!  This isn't as awesome as I was thinking it was or should be!  I'm not a worthy wife! And why can't he get out of the bed in the morning before he passes gas!"  I hyper-focus on these details with an "end of the world" emotion attached and the big-picture gets blocked.  Thankfully, the mirror always flips back around and after licking the wounds I created we go back to "the normal" view of our marriage and move on.  

I could probably think of a million cliches or analogies to describe this, and while I don't wish this on anyone, obviously, a part of me hopes that I'm normal too and others have experienced it.  

I guess what's important in this is to say this....here, on my 12th anniversary, is a realization that Michael---who does not hyper-focus on our marriage--who does not spontaneously freak--has rooted himself in such a way that allows our marriage to continue to grow and flourish.  When people ask me "How do you do it all?", my answer is.....I am, I do, I can because Michael is.  I'm no longer naive to the fact that God has blessed me with my husband because I am better with him, worse without him.  

The details may be messy, if you get too close.  But I can't erase them.  And I won't erase them.  Even the ones that that cause my face to flush with shame.  Because when I step back one...two...three steps...I see something beautiful that I can't take my eyes off of.  

My journey with Depression

What if they hate me some day?

What if they don't become happy adults?

What if they don't have healthy friendships?

What if their teachers are upset with them?

What if their teachers are upset with me?

What if people blame me for their messy hair?

What if....What if....What if.....

Developing as a mother over the course of the last 10 years has been both a challenge and a blessing.  When I first imagined being a mom I imagined giving birth, then BOOM, I was a mom and I would either be a good mom or a not-so-good mom.  I didn't realize that parenting was a development process just like almost every other major role in my life, and I didn't forsee the barriers that would come that would impact this development.  

And developing was not that easy for me.  I hid my stress pretty easily (at least I think I did, who knows!).  But when I had four kids under the age of 4 years old, had a full-time job, and working my way through my Ph.D., I felt anything but calm, cool, and collected.  The pressures of being the magazine-perfect mom were enourmous and I could feel the weight of the pressure crushing on top of me, making me feel smaller and smaller.  I was a woman (I AM STILL a woman, for anyone wondering where I was going after that sentence).  Because I was a woman, shouldn't being a mom be easy and natural?  

Instead, I found myself wrapped up and riddled with stress and guilt that cycled around in the most unhealthy of ways.  

Last fall, I hit the bottom.  Tears streamed down my face in front of my newly-appointed nurse practitioner as I explained to her how I was feeling.  Dark.  Stressed. Depressed.  Not Good Enough.  I felt I was failing and I couldn't admit it to anyone.  My head physically felt like there was a constant weight, and my heart felt like it could explode in a million pieces at any minute.  And the CHEWING!  Dear goodness, the CHEWING!  Stop eating next to me! The littlest of things that wouldn't bother a "normal" person were sending me way over the edge in a way that I couldn't control.

My nurse practioner talked to me about depression.  Yes, I met almost every risk-indicator, but I couldn't be depressed.  How could a person who was naturally energetic, and let's face it, SUPER freakin' hilarious, be depressed??  But we talked.  And she was right.  I was.  I was so disappointed in myself.  I felt like I had let everyone down.  

And then I told myself to stop being a hypocrite.  I talk constantly with my students about the realities of mental health.  And that it need not be a taboo topic.  And that individuals that live with mental health-related disorders should never be made to feel ashamed.  Meanwhile, there I was....embarassed of being depressed.  Ashamed.  What a hypocrite.  

So I started the antidepressants that she prescribed, and within a few days I felt the sky was no longer a thick gray.  I felt my brain was not weighed down by cinder block.  I felt happy.  I wasn't annoyed.  I noticed how funny my kids were.  I noticed how cool my students could be.  I noticed fall leaves, coffee smells, and warm blankets again.  Depression was covering my senses.  It was covering my love, and it was smothering.  But the prescription was helping and within a month I was feeling like the Aryn that I personally love.  

And then my development as a mother began again.  I hugged the kids longer.  Played with them more.  Laughed at them more than ever.  Read to them longer.  My patience and grace for them began to stretch in ways that I always thought it should and knew it could.  I began to reflect and learn about being a mom again....instead of feeling hurt and defensive of my mistakes, I began to see them as points of growth.  I still fail......but I am not selfishly wrapped up in my own failure, I'm letting myself grow.  

I don't write this for any type of attention that admitting depression could give.  I write this because I hid what I was going through for a long time because I felt ashamed, and the fact is, there is nothing to be ashamed of.  What's true is that my brain does work a bit differently and their is an imbalance that is helped by the use of antidepressants.  But I'm not ashamed of that, just as I am not ashamed that I wear corrective lenses or need shoes with higher arch supports.  Our bodies were not made to be perfect and stay perfect, so to think that my brain should be any different than any other part of my body is simply unreasonable.  So I write this because there could be other moms out there that struggle....and you should know that you shouldn't be ashamed or upset with yourself.  It is what it is, and embrace who you are.  You are enough.