Writing

In some ways I have shied away from writing for the blog for several reasons:

1. You can only write that you are as sad as you've ever been so many times.
2. The daily gring can feel pretty monotonous and uninteresting.
3. Without Jacob's health updates there isn't as much essential information to communicate.

But at the end of the day I really do love writing. It is something that enriches me, that lifts my thoughts and that helps me feel like I can serve in my own small way.

I had a good talk with my visiting teachers yesterday and came away with the idea that in the next months and years I can take some time to explore things that are interesting to me. I can learn a new skill. I can develop a neglected talent. I can volunteer with causes that are meaningful to me.

This idea, today, is still kind of overwhelming as I grapple with a very limited amount of available time. I am kind of hard wired to work first and then play and am finding that in parenting/home maintenance the work is NEVER ENDING.

For real.

For example, yesterday Tommy and my nephew threw pencils and then marbles at the screen of our downstairs TV.

And broke it.

Yep, never ending.

There is almost always something productive that I could or should be doing.

But after trying last week to work all of the time (I had a to do list that filled an entire 8x11 page) while having sick kids, getting inadequate sleep, and fitting in marathon training I burned myself out.

That is not good for anyone.

I am sure many of you know the feeling. You are tired, irritable, feel unproductive, can't get anything (and definitely not everything) done, inefficient, etc. and you just give up and throw in the towel.

That is where I was and this is what happened.

I went to bed one night and had a very clear impression that I needed to stop, slow down and take more time for me.

To do a thing or two that would replenish and not diminish my tank.

So I did.

Saturday I took a nap only 2 hours after waking up.

Sunday I pursued the newspaper.

Yesterday I read a whole book. (...and the tv got broken. Correlation or causation? I don't know :)

But you know what? I feel a little bit better. I have some juice in the tank and feel like I have something to give.

It should be obvious.

I am a human. I am not a machine. I have limitations. I cannot be productive all of the time. I have to stop. I have to replenish. I have to rest.

But when I get in my "to do" mode it can be very hard and unnatural to switch it on and off. When I get working on the list I want everyone and everything out of the way so I can 'get 'er done.' I love the thrill of crossing things off the list. I love tackling tasks that have been bugging me. I love the rush of getting things done. But when it comes at the cost of making me irritable, mean and resentful of the (little) people around me, I have gone too far.

There must be a balance.

Jacob knew this well and helped me so much in this way. His frequent role in our marriage was to give me permission (and often encouragement) to stop, to take a break, to rest. I miss that so much.

I have a scripture in Alma framed by my bed. It talks about how Alma "returned to his own house...to rest himself from the labors which he had performed...and thus ended the ninth year of the reign of the judges." From these verses, it seems that Alma rested for weeks or even months after his hard labor.  He was a prophet and had established the church of God, but he was allowed and even encouraged to rest. I can do the same. Sometimes I forget and burn out, but thankfully I can also remember and rest again.

So back to writing.

Writing is something I love, that replenishes and that makes me happy. It is something I enjoy and it allows me to expel some of the thoughts in my mind. So even though I may not have anything groundbreaking to say I still want to give it a go.

When a day gets long or when I need a break I can come to the computer and I can write. I am giving myself permission.

Just typing that makes me happy.

Here we go friends.

Let the writing begin.

Healing

2018.

So far so good.

First, we made it through another holiday season.

For the last two years, those weeks from the end of October through the New Year are pretty rough.

In a period of 10 weeks 3 of our children have birthdays and there are 4 major holidays. It seems like every 10 days there is another event to celebrate and there comes the rub- just as I have time to recover and build up strength another holiday/birthday comes along and I fall back down again. And as it happens over and over and over for those ten weeks I am exhausted by the end of it.

In part it is because after Jake died the holidays/birthdays/celebratory days have taken on a new hue. Instead of being only happy days, events to look forward to, they have developed more of a duplicitous nature and are often sad and poignant days where we ache for his presence and find it hard to celebrate without him.

I am a girl of big emotions and for almost 33 years, holidays and birthdays were only happy days for me. I LOVE a celebration. I love a party. I loved looking forward to holidays and making them special for my family. The first Easter we were married I sent Jake on an Easter egg hunt around our apartment because I was so excited to create a tradition for our family. He was so kind to humor me.

I think the 2016 season was the all time low.

And so for the 2017 season I was more prepared- I remembered what had been hard the year before and I tried to make plans/put safeguards in place to avoid so much pain. In many ways that helped. The kids and I kept things simple- we skipped cumbersome traditions, went went out of town, and tried to just do the minimum. For the most part I did not sense the children aching as much and I felt better through the ups and downs. There was still one event that caught me off guard and caused a relapse of pain. Such is the journey.

I have new understanding for people who suffer during the holidays. Be them any holiday/birthday/special day of the year. Before Jake got sick I remember speculating out loud as to why people would not enjoy celebratory occasions. Why certain special days were hard for others. Why not everyone loved their birthday.

I was a fool.

I do not think it wise to wipe all celebratory times off of the calendar. That is not possible or realistic.

But I also understand that there are a myriad of reasons why people suffer on special days. Unmet expectations. Dashed hopes. Lost dreams. Hurt, neglect, abuse, abandonment, pain. For whatever reason, regularly occurring holidays can often bring up feelings that we might be able to keep at bay on regular days. And when they come to the surface they can be terribly painful. And then they threaten to repeat themselves year after year. It can be a vicious cycle.

I have great hope that our birthday/holiday/celebratory season will not always be this hard. That there will be reason to rejoice and celebrate wholeheartedly again. But I also know that there will always be a twinge of sorrow, a moment of pain and a bitter to accompany the sweet of those special events.

And in all honesty, I think that makes them more authentic, more instructive, more valuable experiences.

Life is not one dimensional. Almost all of our experiences are of a dual nature. That is part of the plan, it is how we learn and it helps us become more Godlike. All things are present for Him- Happiness and sorrow. Peace and war. Light and darkness. Joy and misery.

Why should it be different for us?

I can say that with the hard there were many moments of grace shown to us through the kindness of others. People were thoughtful. Friends called. Family members invited. Neighbors visited. Children laughed. And overarching in all of it was the love of the Savior. He was present in our good times and in the hard ones and continued to sustain me and our kids through the influence of the Holy Ghost.

I am so grateful for Jesus.

Second, I continue to feel myself coming back to life.

Like I wrote back in August, I can feel that little sapling taking root, gaining strength and pushing out new branches.

I called my counselor last week and had a good conversation with her. I told her about this new hope I feel and she said something amazing. So amazing, in fact, that I had her say it again just so I could believe it.

She said, "Jordan, I think you are through the worst of it."

I think you are through the worst of it.

I would not believe those words if I did not feel the truth of them growing inside of me.

And that hope is possible, tangible, and real because of Him.

I have come to know Jesus Christ in many capacities- as a friend, as an example, as a Savior and as one acquainted with grief.

And now I am learning about Jesus as a healer. As one who binds up the broken hearted. As one who heals wounds. As one who mends hearts.

In Luke the Savior states, "He hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted." In 2nd Nephi, "He shall rise from the dead with healing in his wings." In Psalms, "He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds."

And one of those He is healing with such patience and tenderness is me.

He is healing me.