I remember watching an episode of “Everybody loves Raymond” where Deborah wanted to be alone to have a good cry. The premise was that this was a good thing… a release. I’ve heard others say they felt better after a good cry. To me, “good cry” is an oxymoron. I have never felt better after crying.
My current situation, as I have been told by a good friend, is a “process” and very much ongoing and changeable. Truer words were never spoken. I have days – sometimes several at a stretch – where I feel good about things. I can do this. I will end up better off when all is said and done.
Then there are the days when I burst into tears out of the blue and feel like my life is just such a mess and will never be normal again. The despair that hits me is like a big, dark cloud that covers me from head to toe and threatens to blot out all light and swallow me into the darkness. And back to the “good cry” – it doesn’t exist for me. The more I cry, the worse I feel. Not only does it put me into a horrible place emotionally, it physically drains me. I feel like I could just curl up in a ball and do nothing but wallow in self-pity. The puffy eyes and blotchy face and inability to breathe don’t exactly help matters.
How to escape the pit of helplessness? I will check my ever-present list of things to do and then busy myself. I got so much done last week when I was feeling like “I got this!” If I get anything done today it will be because “I DON’T got this!” But I can get something accomplished anyway, and hopefully take my mind away from the black fears that are blotting out the light. Maybe by the time I am done with the first task, the light will come flooding back and along with it the hope that things will work out. Not just the hope, but the certainty that things will work out and everything will be okay.
Then I will go out and look at the mountain and marvel at the world God made for us. I will see and hear the birds outside and smile at the beauty all around. And I will thank Him for all the good things, and ask Him to help me get through all this and to the other side. And I will go find my dog, buried under the covers of my bed, blissfully happy and dreaming doggy dreams, and I will hug him and tell him I love him, just to see his tail wag and the look of joy on his face. And I will be okay.