Red, White, and Blue Chin Up!

Chin-Up1000 With the 4th of July weekend coming to a close I realize how ready I am for it to end, and it’s okay to feel that way.  I’m kinda big on allowing yourself to be wherever you are. I can personally attest to the harmful effects of stuffing feelings. My mother died 10 years ago, and somewhere along the way I stopped feeling a lot of the grief behind that loss, and stopped processing the heartache my family created over treatment I received after her death, I guess because life kinda required it. I had to go to work, or clean my house, or go to the grocery store. Those norms of life didn’t make a lot of room for sorrow. Oh and I forgot to mention, I was directly told to get over her death. I’ll let that marinate. Yes I was told on the one year anniversary to her death, “you should be over it by now.” Those words are still as astonishing today as the day they were spoken.

So I stopped feeling that pain. The bad thing about that is I stopped feeling a lot of things. Numbness appears helpful in the moment, but it tends to stop circulation. That circulation doesn’t only cut off bad feelings, but it cuts off good feelings too. To this day I have to make an effort to feel. So in whatever stage I am in, I attempt to allow myself to be there. I think it’s a little insane that so many encourage you to stop feeling what you’re feeling if those feelings are any where near pain. It is deemed by some as a representation of a lack of faith. But Jesus himself wept. He sat and cried in a sorrowful moment. So to encourage someone to not feel pain is not only unhelpful, it’s not biblical.

Today and this entire weekend has been rough for me.  As I mentioned yesterday in my poem  In a Moment, the 4th of July is really hard for me. I was married on that day with the intention that it would for a lifetime represent the fireworks of what was then my life. Family and friends use to gather to my beach side condo to see the fireworks over the shore. So excuse me while I don’t really want to celebrate this day of independence that independently represents to me the ending of my marriage. Sidebar, my sorrow over this day is in no way a longing for my ex-husband himself. I know, that I know, that I know, that I made the right decision to walk away, to protect my young son and myself. But let there be no doubt that even right decisions are painful on days like this. This is now the second major death of my life, my mother, and then my marriage, because divorce is in fact a death. A death of a structure, of a vision, of a dream, of a family. Today I am sorrowful that my son will never remember his beach side home. He will never remember his parents being in the same home.

However… while I’m being in my feelings, I’m just not going to allow them to determine my future. I won’t get stuck in them.

The moment that I feel myself falling into the abyss of those feelings of loss, like they are going to stain the nucleus of my cells, like they will be the place of my burial, there is something inside of me that rises with snap shots of things unseen. My son may not remember that old beach side home but he’ll remember his future one. He may not remember his parents being in the same home, but he will remember one of peace and warmth and love, even if it is run by his single parent. I see the home that I will own. I see him in his activities, growing, learning, abounding and reaching.

So even though yes I’m ready for this weekend to be over.  And yes I can celebrate those cute posted pics of babies in red, white, and blue. I acknowledge that I am in process of sewing back together my heart and life that currently sits in hues of red and blue. I am yet reminded that  I will have a new day of sparkly explosions of light. I will keep my chin up so that I can see the coming fireworks in new horizons.


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