There’s a saying in the South, “You’re making a mountain out of a mole hill”.
It’s supposed knock sense into someone who is overreacting to a small and easily resolved problem. Most of the time it works-stepping back and gaining perspective is a good thing.
But I find that this side of Dominic’s leaving, many, many things that were mole hills before are MOUNTAINS now. Because my faith in my own ability to handle things has become so very small, nearly any challenge feels like a never-ending ascent up the mountain.
I used to be the person who crossed “t’s” and dotted “i’s”.
Shoot-my whole wedding was organized on 3×5 index cards kept in a tiny filing cabinet (long before online wedding sites!). I still have that little metal box and can recite who received an invitation, who responded, who attended, what gift they gave us and when I wrote the “thank you” note.
If I don’t put my truck keys in exactly the same spot, I’ will never find them. And panic sets in about 60 seconds after I realize I don’t know where they are.
Everyday hiccups are absolutely exhausting and larger issues are downright debilitating.
It reminds me of a move my family made from Atlanta, Georgia to Denver, Colorado when I was twelve.
Denver is known as the “Mile High City” because on the first step of the capital building it is 5,280 feet above sea level. My sea-level body had to work hard to live that much closer to the sun.
The first year was a real challenge because the red blood cells that had been sufficient to carry oxygen to my brain, vital organs and tissues at near sea-level, were woefully insufficient to carry enough oxygen to my extremities a mile closer to the sun. Eventually my body caught up to the new reality and made more corpuscles.
I’m afraid my mind, heart and spirit have yet to catch up to THIS new reality of life after child loss.
I am quickly struck down and discouraged when what SHOULD be a mole hill rapidly turns into a MOUNTAIN.
Regardless of what it looks like or feels like to anyone else, it IS a mountain to ME.
And that takes so much energy to scale. It requires so much discipline to face. It wears me out and uses up my resources so that I’m left depleted, panting and oh, so tired from the effort.
I wish I could help those outside the child loss community understand just how much it takes for me and everyone like me to do what has to be done.
We aren’t being lazy or overly emotional or “making too much of nothing”.
We live in a different world than the rest of you.
Our air has less oxygen.
Our bodies have to work harder to do what comes easily to the rest of you.
I promise we are trying. But willpower can’t make up for the resources we just don’t have.