I am not a worrier by nature.
I tend to look at a problem and immediately marshal available resources to find a solution.
But sometimes, there is really. truly not one single thing I CAN do and it’s then I fall prey to those niggling “what if” thoughts.
You know the ones.
The kind of things that keep you from drifting off to sleep at night or visit you in your dreams when you do.
Read the rest here: Battling Anxiety/Seeking Peace: Shape Worry Into Prayer
It’s no secret I have a particular fondness for biblical passages on shepherding.
For over twenty years I’ve kept goats and sheep in varying numbers and every day discover one more way I am a sheep in need of a Shepherd.
I wander, I’m afraid when I don’t have to be, I do foolish and self-harmful things, I push and shove to get that certain bit of food or space or whatever when all the while there is an abundance, and I often make it hard for the One who loves me best to guide me to the safety and rest of His fold.
That’s one reason the Twenty-third Psalm is especially beautiful to me.
But there’s another reason-hidden inside the original Hebrew-that makes it a favorite Bible passage and a very appropriate one for these frightening times: within the verses are references to seven names of God.
Read the rest here: Battling Anxiety/Seeking Peace: Thankful For My Shepherd
Friends, can I just say that I’m tired? I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of the parade of good news/bad news and give a little, take a lot.
I need to feed my soul with truth that helps my heart hold onto hope.
So I’m going to replay this short series from last spring when the world as we knew it largely disappeared.
The reason for our anxiety may have changed a bit (there IS a vaccine now) but I suspect that some of us are just as anxious.
And who doesn’t crave peace?
If your heart is worn and weary, come along precious one. I know exactly where we can find rest.
❤ Melanie
Remember last August when we did a Scripture Journal Challenge on grief?
Well, I don’t know about you, but I need another one.
Television, social media news feeds and online searches scream one frightening headline after another and I need to be reminded Who is in control and to Whom I belong.
So this time we will focus on Battling Anxiety/Seeking Peace.
Read the rest here: Scripture Journal Challenge: Battling Anxiety, Seeking Peace
It surprised me when I felt anxious after Dominic ran ahead to Heaven.
Not that the doorbell startled me, or that passing the place of the accident was hard nor that hearing motorcycles made my skin crawl.
But that every single day for many, many months anxiety crept up my backbone and made a knot in my neck.
It surprised me that I felt like I was literally going to explode.
Read the rest here: Why is Anxiety Part of Child Loss?
In the daylight
In the dark
In my dreams
Things creep in at the corner of my vision
Or sounds slip in unnoticed
Until my brain puts them together and screams, “Oh no!”.
Read the rest here: Swallowing Panic
My world was rocked to its foundation the moment I heard the words, “He was killed in a motorcycle accident”.
The worst thing I could imagine had come true.
There was no protection from it happening again, no guarantee that THIS unbearable pain would be the ONLY unbearable pain I would have to carry.
I think my body chemistry was instantly transformed that morning to include rapid heartbeats, shallow breathing and a horrible creepy tension that climbs my spine and clenches its claws tightly at the base of my skull.
Read the rest here: Anxiety is Awful!
You know that scene in Forrest Gump where he starts running and just can’t stop?
I thought that was a funny way to deal with grief when I first saw the movie.
But now I understand it perfectly.
If I could have started running, walking or even crawling away from the heartache in those first days and weeks I would have.
Truth is, though, you can’t.
Read the rest here: Can’t Run Away
I continue to be surprised by how my body betrays me in this post-child loss world.
A simple, relatively painless procedure brought me to my knees and there was nothing I could do about it.
I had a last minute appointment with a new specialist the other day because my rheumatologist wanted a dermatology consult.
So I hauled myself downtown (first time since all this pandemic stuff started!), parked, temperature checked and entered the brave new world of mostly empty waiting rooms populated by masked people looking at their phones.
Once I was called back into the room, the medical assistant took my vitals and I waited for the doctor. As I waited, I realized that this would be the first time I was seen by a health professional who didn’t know I had buried a child. But at six years into this journey, I dismissed it as inconsequential to the day’s business.
The exam went well and confirmed some suspicions. Just when I thought things were over the room suddenly morphed from “exam” to prepping for a “procedure”. They needed to take a small biopsy to rule out or rule in the diagnosis.
Now, I’ve had all kinds of uncomfortable and downright painful things done to me. I’m no whiner (although I do not like anyone to give me a play-by-play). I sit still, grit my teeth and put up with whatever comes my way.
But as I watched the nurses prep the tray I realized I was getting anxious. I applied all my little tricks-the 5-4-3-2-1 sensory tool, deep breathing, touching each finger to my thumb-and thought I was victorious.
When the doctor injected the lidocaine it really did feel just like tiny bee stings.
And then suddenly, unexpectedly and uncontrollably my world began to spin, my breath became ragged and I knew for certain I was headed toward passing out.
It was so embarrassing.
I apologized over and over and over.
But they were great.
The doctor said it was a vagal nerve response and I had no control over it. My body was reacting to stimuli and no amount of willpower could make it stop.
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She finished up, the nurse brought me some cold water and I sat in the room for fifteen or twenty minutes to recover. I tried at one point to get up and realized I wasn’t quite ready.
I drove home but felt drained for the rest of the afternoon.
I don’t know why doctor’s offices seem to provoke my grief. Dominic didn’t enter Heaven from a hospital room.
But for some reason, they do.
And while I am so much more in control of when and how I let the grief roll down my cheeks NOW than I was even a year ago, there are times when my body acts against my will.
When that happens, I need to remember it isn’t a choice.
Every day I am holding in so very much. Choosing to spare the world from my inner turmoil and moments of weakness.
Sometimes willpower just isn’t enough.
Before Dominic ran ahead to Heaven I would not have described myself as “anxious”.
Of course I had my moments, but anxiety, panic or worry was not really something I experienced on a regular basis.
That’s changed.
Read the rest here: Anxiety After Child Loss Is Real
This thing is really dragging on, isn’t it?
For many folks it’s the first time in their lives they’ve been forced to come face to face with the truth we really have little control over anything.
Some of us can’t leave our homes, most of us aren’t supposed to.
Some long desperately to hold grandchildren but social distancing means only a long distance wave (if you’re lucky) or FaceTime on a screen. Some want to visit parents or grandparents in eldercare facilities but are forbidden lest the virus be ushered through closed doors and run rampant down the halls. No local gatherings. No play dates for kids. No school routine (who thought they’d miss nightly homework battles!). Work from home or no work at all.
Parents are suddenly with their children ALL DAY LONG. Some children are suddenly imprisoned 24/7 in unsafe homes-no escaping to school for a few hours respite.
And toilet paper. Lots and lots of toilet paper (for some, apparently) and none for others.
The people who are supposed to have the latest, best information seem like either they aren’t getting it, reading it and digesting it or they really don’t know what they are doing.
Social media is allowing some front line workers like doctors, nurses and paramedics to publicize snapshots and give commentary on the inside of ambulances and hospitals and it’s truly frightening.
And oh, by the way, if your person gets sick enough to be wheeled away from home and inside those big doors, you can’t follow. No matter how sick they are, you can’t sit by the bed and hold their hand.
Is it any wonder many of us are not only stir crazy but crazy sick with worry, fear and anxiety?
So, my friend, I want to know-really truly know-how are you doing?
How are you managing under the stress and strain of unwelcome change you can’t control?
What is helping you hold on?
What is making it harder?
I know some who gather in this space are not praying people and that’s OK. I’d like to share a prayer anyway, if you’ll let me.
Because that’s how I hold on. ❤
PRAYER:
Father God,
This is such a fearful time.
Too many changes too fast and more coming every day. An invisible enemy is stalking those I love and there’s really not much I can do about it except to follow the best advice being tossed out by people who are supposed to know but who don’t really inspire a lot of confidence.
I’m afraid of what I know and afraid of what I don’t know.
I’m petrified someone in my intimate circle will fall ill and I won’t be able to be with them. My job may be in danger too and I might not make my bills. My kids are confused and I wonder how all these months of no school is going to play out next fall. The list could go on and on.
Help my heart hold onto hope. Help me find a bit of joy-the rose among the thorns-each day. Sandwiches on paper plates with the whole family. A breath of fresh spring air through open windows. A funny meme sent from a friend far away so we can share a laugh even if we can’t share a cup of coffee.
Let every sunrise remind my heart that the world is still turning and no night lasts forever.
Amen
thelifeididntchoose 