I have taken a dip--an emotional dip.
That was bound to happen, and no doubt it will happen again. Has it happened to you yet? Have your emotions dipped below what you consider an acceptable functioning level?
For the most part I've coped with this time quite well. Being an introvert helps, for as long as I have books to read, I'm good. I've been content to sit at my desk in the garret and write.
Most of the time. Most days.
But recently I've felt sadness drift into my body, taking energy and motivation. I don't have to dig deep to understand why lately I feel more sadness than joy.
How about the day my father's death certificate finally arrived. I was relieved, for there were financial tasks waiting to be checked off the list, but, instead of doing them right away, I set aside the envelope from the medical examiner's office for a couple days. We have not been able to have a memorial service because of the pandemic and who knows when it will be safe for his grandchildren who live out of state to gather for a graveside service. That makes me sad.
And each time I hear about plans for the coming school year, I feel tears just beneath the surface. I ache for the teachers and staff and for the children whose learning and growing is so seriously impaired. And I fear for everyone's safety.
Alongside the implications of the pandemic and no less important is how can our country own up to the racism we have allowed to dominate. How can we become the people we were created to be?
It's no wonder my normal sense of hope has been leaking around the edges. If it weren't so hot, I would curl up under an afghan with a Snickers in one hand and an English mystery in the other and pretend none of it exists.
Actually, maybe that is exactly what I need to do--or some version of the Afghan-Candybar-Mystery prescription. Just for now.
Since my Dad died, I have been reading a meditation every day in Healing After Loss, Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief by Martha Whitmore Hickman. Often the daily reading is just what I need and applies to the ambiguous loss many of us are feeling in our lives right now. This is from July 18
No need to feel guilty about low moods.
If we can do something to chase them off--fine.
If not--wait, they will pass.
Most of the time. Most days.
But recently I've felt sadness drift into my body, taking energy and motivation. I don't have to dig deep to understand why lately I feel more sadness than joy.
How about the day my father's death certificate finally arrived. I was relieved, for there were financial tasks waiting to be checked off the list, but, instead of doing them right away, I set aside the envelope from the medical examiner's office for a couple days. We have not been able to have a memorial service because of the pandemic and who knows when it will be safe for his grandchildren who live out of state to gather for a graveside service. That makes me sad.
And each time I hear about plans for the coming school year, I feel tears just beneath the surface. I ache for the teachers and staff and for the children whose learning and growing is so seriously impaired. And I fear for everyone's safety.
Alongside the implications of the pandemic and no less important is how can our country own up to the racism we have allowed to dominate. How can we become the people we were created to be?
It's no wonder my normal sense of hope has been leaking around the edges. If it weren't so hot, I would curl up under an afghan with a Snickers in one hand and an English mystery in the other and pretend none of it exists.
Actually, maybe that is exactly what I need to do--or some version of the Afghan-Candybar-Mystery prescription. Just for now.
Since my Dad died, I have been reading a meditation every day in Healing After Loss, Daily Meditations for Working Through Grief by Martha Whitmore Hickman. Often the daily reading is just what I need and applies to the ambiguous loss many of us are feeling in our lives right now. This is from July 18
No need to feel guilty about low moods.
If we can do something to chase them off--fine.
If not--wait, they will pass.
I continue to function, although sometimes I do sadly things I have normally done happily, but I listen to myself and acknowledge the dips before they turn into debilitating despair. I wonder how often in my work as a spiritual director I have encouraged a client or workshop participant or someone with whom I am having a casual conversation to "be gentle with yourself." I am trying to remember those words for myself, as well.
An Invitation
What have you noticed about your moods? Have you dipped? I would love to know.
An Invitation
What have you noticed about your moods? Have you dipped? I would love to know.
I was given two copies of that book when Mike died, it was like a thoughtfully prescribed medication. You have given so much gentle guidance to others, listen to that voice of yours.
ReplyDeleteWe both know that English mysteries and chocolate are a wonderful balm to the soul. I have recently been enjoying the Ruth Galloway series by Elly Griffiths.
Sending you a warm embrace.
Thank you for your kind words--and the book recommendations. I may need to go to the grocery store for some chocolate today.
ReplyDeleteMay al be well with you and your son--I feel your embrace and send one to you, as well.
That was one of the grief books I read after my oldest son passed away in 2009. (He was only 21.)
ReplyDeleteI think feeling dips in moods right now is very normal, especially when you just experienced a profound loss, too. {{hugs}}
Remember when a good long cry and a really tight hug solved everything?
ReplyDeleteNot so much anymore. That two ton boulder of pain that we drag around only
gets lighter as bits and pieces slowly chip away. I would do anything to lessen your burden, Just know you are loved. I found Lysol spray at Byerlys today, I was going to call Bradley and tell him I experienced a miracle....but thought better of it.
I do feel loved and send love your way, too. Oh, and hurrah for miracles!
Delete