Denial

I haven't written - anything - for two weeks now. I think I'm in the denial stage of grief. I simply don't want to deal with it anymore. i don't want to talk about it. I don't want to cry about it. I don't want to be mad about it. I just want it to go away. But the thing is, it doesn't. I find myself pushing away all the hurt, deeper and deeper inside so that I just don't have to process it or feel it or manage it for one more minute, in an effort to somehow feel normal again, even for an hour. I am subconsciously or perhaps even consciously avoiding the things that will help. Certain friends, long prayers, diligent scriptures, time alone, temple worship, writing, crying, talking, running, eating, all feel linked now to the sorrow and to the reality that the normal I once knew is never returning.

There are elements of my past life that I am finding myself grateful for losing. My priorities have shifted and realigned in a way that is much more in tune with my family, with God, and with my heart. But in the same breath I can't help but wonder if there couldn't have been an easier way - one that didn't hurt so much. Couldn't the lessons have come softer, sweeter and slower? They almost feel like a punishment of sorts - the bitter medicine of mortality.

I get so tired of pretending that everything is still fine. I'm not fine. I'm still wounded and weary and wondering why all of this was necessary. I'm still waiting for a day when I don't wish for the life that I really never had, but thought for so many years that I did. I keep wondering when I won't feel so lonely, so isolated from my husband who I have relied on in so many ways for so many years. I feel so aleinated from my parents who would be eternally crushed if they had any inkling of my pain. I am in such need of the love and support of my siblings and friends and yet they are completely oblivious to my circumstances.

The sorrow and suffering still linger. No matter how hard I try and push it away, it's still there. I have faith. I have a testimony. I know the Lord can heal me. I just wish it wasn't so hard. I wish it wouldn't take so long. I wish that the depth of the pain would somehow diminish or subside. I wish I knew what kind of a 'normal' to expect or even hope for. I really wish none of this would have ever happened, that I could make it all go away. I wish that I could remember what it feels like to be intensely, completely happy and in love. I miss that feeling desperately.

I miss the sense of sufficient self I have always been blessed with. And perhaps that is the ultimate lesson in this. There is no self without the Savior. There is no hope, no healing, no life, no lessons, no perspective, no restoration without Him. I am completely helpless without the hope of Atonement. I cannot imagine feeling like this forever. So I hang onto that silver thread of hope, with the faith that somehow it will lead me through this unimaginable sea of sorrow to a far greater land of promise.

One By One

I'm learning that this journey is so individual, so personal that I'm having to rely more and more heavily on the spirit to discern my path. I know that my Heavenly Father knows me. Me. As an individual. His daughter.

I love the story in the Book of Mormon when the Savior comes to the Nephites and invites each person to come and feel his wounds one by one. There was an overall witness to the masses, certainly, upon his heavenly descent. But He wanted each of them to come to Him, feel His wounds and know that He suffered them for each of them.

There is no comparing myself to anyone in this experience. There is no progress to measure but my own. There is no sense in despairing over what has not yet occurred, only joy to be found in the steps I have traveled thus far - one by one.

Satan would have me believe that my progress must be measured externally, without any regard for my personal journey. He would distract me with arbitrary, unimportant, worldly- imposed landmarks of success and improvement, focusing only on how far I still have yet to travel. But God would have me recognize that true progress is measured by my proximity to the spirit. For when He is my guide, the pathway is sure, the progress is steady and success is spiritually marked.

This journey is mine alone. I need to move, facing forward, concerned more with direction than distance, taking each step daily, one by one.

Major Accomplishment

I went to the grocery store and bought food today. All by myself. I didn't make a list. I didn't plan the meals out. I didn't clip or take any coupons. But I did it. I didn't even get totally overwhelmed. I remember when shopping wasn't a big deal to me at all, but it is now.

I'm learning to celebrate the smallest steps back to normalcy.

Totally

Totally overwhelmed.

Totally sleep deprived.

Totally exhausted.

Totally done for the day.

Totally convinced I'm on an unpredictable emotional roller coaster.

Totally hoping tomorrow is better.

Music

I have found a great deal of healing possible through inspired music. Hillary Weeks' album "Because I Have Today" has taught me many important things. Also Doug Walker's album "Stones in the River". There is a particular arrangement of "Nearer My God to Thee" by George Dyer that has been increasingly comforting. Find music that teaches, uplifts, and brings the spirit. It has become a balm to my wearied soul.

The Peacegiver

Read "The Peacegiver" by James Ferrell, but be prepared for searing self-evaluation, grief, hesitation, and questioning. Pray for the right time, but read it. The atonement is not just for the sinner, it's for the sinned against, the suffering, to allow all to be restored to His grace and presence.

Will You Give It to Me?

"Will you give it to me?"

Silence. Hesitation. Trepidation. Reservation.

"Will you give it to me? It's my burden to carry. I've already carried it for you so you don't have to."

"How? How is that possible?"

"I've engraven you on the palms of my hands. I love you, more than you can comprehend."

Warmth. A flood of reassurance, overwhelming approval and love.

"Will you give it to me? The pain, the sorrow, the heartache. Let me take it."

"If I give it to you, then what will I have? What will I be?"

"You will be left with peace, joy, innocence, a heart that can heal."

"What about the anger, the betrayal?"

"It will be gone if you will give it to me."

"How can I give you the pain if I don't trust him. How can I ever trust him again?"

"Trust me. You only need to trust me, that I can take away the pain and replace it with peace. Trust that I will continue to lead and guide you as I have done from the beginning. Trust that I can and will take this completely from you. Will you give it to me?"

"Yes, Lord. Take the suffocating pain, the searing sorrow, the relentless anger & betrayal. Take it away. Carry my burdens and suffering in the most literal way, that my heart may be light and can bear a song away. Take it - I give it to you."

Gently, wounded Hands lift the heavy burdens from my heart fully, completely. Taking away my ability to sin in this situation through anger, bitterness & inability to forgive. Somehow, miraculously, peace. Sweet reassurance. Resurrection of innocence. Restoration of trust through my ability to trust in Him, to find hope in Him, peace in Him.

'And when I think of God, His Son not sparing,
Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in.
That on the cross, my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin.'