Grieving in Waves

Grief is such a strange thing, and even though I’ve lost many people in my lifetime, I’m still not used to the way this process works for us humans.

The biggest thing I’m still working on coming to terms with? Sometimes memories really just sucker punch you in the gut, and there really doesn’t seem to be any way to get around it. The world moves on, and so do you, but sometimes you get thrown back to times gone by and the emotions come with you. In my experience, grief can be much like water at the beach - sometimes it’s calm, and sometimes you get slammed by a wave that you didn’t see coming.

Sometimes your heart just hurts.

And that’s okay. Even if it’s been a while, it’s okay. The one thing you can’t do is pretend it isn’t there. If you’re waist-deep in the ocean and don’t expect to get hit by the next wave that comes along, you’re in for a cold surprise... and it seems to me that grief often works the same way.

My mantra during the past year or so has been “progress isn’t linear.” If you’re working your way toward the shore and get bowled over by an unexpected rogue wave, that doesn’t mean you aren’t making progress. This place is likely less deep than where you started - you just can’t see it yet.

If you never quite get to dry land, that’s okay too. Not everyone does, not everyone needs or wants to. Knee-deep waters are much less overwhelming than waves that rise above your head and lift your feet off of the sand. Time may not heal all wounds, but it does help make them easier to carry.

If you’re going through something, know that it’s okay to not be okay. Sadness and other “bad feelings” have their place and are incredibly important (which is why Inside Out is my favorite movie). If you are overwhelmed by waves that seem to keep knocking you down again and again, know that it is not your forever. Whether you feel like it or not, shallow waters are close by - and as long as you press on, they are getting closer.

I’m still in up to my waist. I get bowled over often. Sometimes it’s scary, and it’s often overwhelming. But at the end of the day, I know the shallows are near - so as Dory so wisely says, I will just keep swimming until I get there.

A World Without Color: Depression, Trauma, and Hope

Photo Credit: Katie and AnnaBelle Armitage

A T  •  F I R S T

9 months ago, walking over this bridge to get to school every day was a terrifying experience, triggering terrible thoughts that I didn’t control. I carried a heavy burden of guilt, shame, and isolation, and I’m pretty sure my actual vision was affected because the world around me was sapped of color. 

I was slipping further and further into a spiral of destructive patterns, barely eating, getting 3-5 hours of sleep a night, and feeling like I had no place in my community, my school, or my city. I could not see an end to the pain that I was experiencing, and despite my best efforts, I could not find a way to process what I was going through without completely falling apart. 

B U T  •  T H E N

I woke up one day realizing I was fixated on the idea of not being alive any more. This realization forced me to realize that I was in a bad place and needed help. I finally saw that I had to commit to working through the depression, anxiety, and trauma that weighed me down like an anchor strapped around my chest, or else I would forever be trapped in the prison of my own mind, living out a miserable existence that terrified me. This marked the beginning of a journey that would forever change my life: a journey filled with all sorts of ups and downs, successes and failures, victories and setbacks, humility and acceptance.

A N D  •  T H E N

My life didn’t magically become perfect. I didn’t snap out of it and “get better” after a session or two. But I reached out to my most trusted people in a cry for help... and they heard me. They embraced me as I was and held me up when I didn’t have the strength to stand. I swallowed my pride and humbled myself in therapy sessions. I did my best to take down the walls I had built up with people and be honest with my community about the condition I was in.

I stopped identifying myself with my illness (“I am depressed”) and started using person-first language on my own self (“I am a person who has depression”). And slowly - so painfully slowly, but surely - the spark of life started to flicker back once in a while. Then more frequently.  

And then, a week ago, I unintentionally referred to my suicidal ideation in the past tense for the first time. 

S O  •  N O W

A year ago, I didn’t think I would be able to pull myself together enough to stay in school. Getting up each day took all the willpower I had. But, by the grace of God and the incredible support of the people around me, I made it. I am able to say “I’m okay” for the first time in what feels like an eternity, and one week from today I will be walking across a stage to celebrate earning my Bachelor’s degree. 

My issues have not vanished. I still have depression, anxiety, and grief to work through. But I can see the sun for the first time in what feels like a century... and the world, which seemed so one-dimensional and flat in tone, I have begun to be able to see in glimpses of full and beautiful color.

M O V I N G  •  F O R W A R D

I share my story for anyone who is now where I was then. There is yet hope, even if it feels like there is none. I could not imagine ever feeling happy or excited about life again, but God had more plans for me than I could see in my limited field of vision. 

There is yet color to be seen in the world, even if all you can see now is black and white. Allow the people who love you to support you. Go to therapy - doing so does not mean you have failed ❤️ You are valid, you belong, you have a place, you are loved. You are not defined by your mental illness or lack thereof. You are more than what you have or have not done. 

If you ever need an understanding, nonjudgemental ear or shoulder to cry on, know that you can come to me.

Much love,

Liz

x

"To the Void" - A Poem

~ Written Feb 26, 2019 ~

To the nights when I feel lonely,
When the floorboards creak and moan;
To the days that make my bones ache
And my heart feel cold like stone;
To the memories that break my heart
Yet somehow bring me joy;
To the pieces of my brain that trick
And blind my very eyes;
To the cold and hardened picture of the future that I see,
To the brokenness and heartbreak that I feel surrounding me,
To the voices in my mind that scream my failures inside,
To the torrent of deceptive thoughts that leave me in denial,
To the lifeless chill and emptiness that drains me to the core,
To the endless search for things that just are not worth searching for-
I say to all these things that wish to tear me all apart,
My Jesus is enough for me, greater than my lifeless heart.
The broken cells residing in my head have no authority,
Just as lost piano keys can’t kill a written melody.
And though my head may scream at me
To drown in what I’ve done;
Though blood goes pounding through my heart
And I can feel it in my gut;
Depression and anxiety,
They think they’ve got the best of me-
But I know this, and they do not,
‘Tis by my King that I’ve been bought.
My life is now my own no more;
My sickness He Himself has borne.
I’ll see Him face to face one day,
And all my pain He’ll wipe away.
I trust His goodness, not my chains;
The thoughts that try to kill my brain,
The searing, roaring feeling-pain.
Will I see healing in this life?
Perhaps I won’t, but through the night
My darkened path He will alight
At least enough to set me right.
Now I have hope that though this pain
May sting and hurt like acid rain,
This life is not what matters most,
It’s what comes next in which I hope.
My pain may not end now or soon,
Yet I can cling to what is true.
Take heart, my friends, and have no fear;
The peace of Christ is ever near.