Just Six Weeks

It’s been just shy of six weeks since my mom left this world.  My life has felt like it was hit by a huge earthquake, and the aftershocks certainly haven’t stopped.  I got home from school today and for some reason started asking myself, “What does life look like 6 weeks after losing my mom?”  And then I felt led to share it on the blog I haven’t used in years.  Why?  Not out of pity, or because I want attention.  I was just thinking about how our perceptions of people are purely from social media.  And on social media, people only ever post the polished, cleaned up, best versions of themselves.  I don’t fault anyone for that.  I would normally do the same thing.  But today I felt that maybe we needed a few more honest, less glamorous snapshots of life.  So I’m going to be vulnerably honest, in the hopes that someone else currently going through a rough time might read this and realize that they aren’t alone, or crazy for not being okay.    

With that being said, what does my life look like six weeks after losing my mom?  It looks like trying to keep it together when I set foot in a church service for the first time since, because I instantly thought about how my mom believed with 100% certainty that God was going to heal her.  And He didn’t.  It feels like the worst ache in my chest at the verse of the worship song saying how God can do absolutely anything. 

It looks like breakdowns without warning, because everything reminds me of her.  And I do mean everything.  Driving past the place where we used to get coffee after my classes, wearing clothes that she went shopping with me for, sunsets, thoughts of my future, memories from my past.  The list is never-ending because she is so intertwined in everything.  I’m half her after all.

Life looks like sitting outside on the first warm day of the year and crying with my sister, knowing that Mom would’ve been out there soaking up the warmth and sunshine, asking us if we wanted to go for a walk, or a drive by the water.  It looks like anxiety attacks brought on by being alone for long periods of time, and not being able to sleep due to reoccurring nightmares of losing more people I love.

I've never been one to get angry easily, but my new life looks like having to leave the room so I won't go off on someone when they want to complain about how unbearable their mom is, because I would give anything to have my mom back.  I long to hear her bugging me about leaving a dish in the sink or needing to clean the cat litter box.

And my new life looks like feeling this sudden rage watching someone who gets paid millions of dollars to play a game cry over winning the Superbowl, because earlier that day my heart broke as I watched my daddy cry because of all he had lost.

A lot of people have remarked on how strong I am with everything I've had to go through in the last two months, but if I’m being completely transparent, I don't feel anything close to strong.

Some days I just want to curl up in a ball and do nothing.  I don’t want to study for the tests I have every week, I don’t want to go to school, I don’t want to talk.  Some days I don’t want to even graduate from the extremely competitive program I worked so hard to get into, because the fear of the pain I’ll feel knowing my mom missed it competes with my desire to do something with my life.  I used to feel so motivated, but now I’m just trying not to drown. 

I’m not going to lie or sugar coat this; life is really hard right now.  I expect it will continue to be for a long, long time.  But every day is a new day, and even though they’re extremely hard, I’m determined to keep going.  Even on the days I don’t want to, if only because I refuse to let my mom down.

Real people aren’t always happy, aren’t always strong, and do not always have it together.  And that’s okay.

Summertime

Well, it's now July.  And I failed maintaining this blog.  Not for a lack of ideas, but because I couldn't ever decide what to actually write about.  I wanted every one of my posts to be some profound, scholarly work that shared my point of view on things.  But thanks to the encouragement of a good friend of mine, I've realized maybe it doesn't have to be.  So I'm going to try this journey again.

What's on my mind today?  I love summer.  There's just something magical about the longer daylight hours, fireflies dancing among the trees, and flowers everywhere.  Everything is just so alive.  It makes me feel more alive.  If that makes any sense. 

Anyways, I'm going to stop myself before I start gushing about my love of grass in the summer.

The other night a couple of friends and I had some fun experimenting with long exposure shots and sparklers.

I went a little crazy.  But hey, it still looks cool.  Talk about a magical summer night.
 

Just Something to Think About

Cliques.  I’ve had a lot of experience with them myself.  And while Christians are supposed to be above the shallowness of the world, even they are susceptible.   

I have been a visitor to over half a dozen churches over the years, attended a small group and 2 different youth groups regularly for at least a year each, visited several more, and was a part of multiple Christian homeschool groups growing up.  And I've seen the same thing.  

Everyone wants to be a part of something, to know that there’s a place they belong.  A place where they are one of the puzzle pieces that fit perfectly, as opposed to a miscellaneous one.  Everyone (even those who claim otherwise) wants to be accepted.  And you’d think that these various groups where Christians meet together and fellowship would be the perfect place for those people to find acceptance.  I mean, if you’re a Christian you’re supposed to love others the way Jesus loved you, right?  So then why is it that there can’t even be true love and acceptance among Christians?  How is it that churches will send teams of missionaries to share the gospel and show God’s love to people of foreign countries, but they can’t step out of their comfort zones a little and invite that new person at the church service to sit with them?  The teens on fire for the Lord and so desperately claiming to want to serve Him with their whole lives can’t tear themselves away from their friends to go try and make that new kid at youth group feel welcome?

I'm not trying to insult anyone, or point fingers.  It's just something to think about.

Here I Go

Well, after saying I was going to do it, then putting it off, then repeating that process for over the past year plus, I’ve finally created my blog.  After I hit create all I could think was, ‘what on earth was I thinking?!’  I feel both excited, and really, really nervous about this new adventure I’m about to embark on.  I have a million ideas rolling around in my head of what I want to say first, but I don’t know where to start.  So please bear with me ‘cause here goes nothing.