Hibernating

I am currently reading a book titled Assaulted by Grief: finding God in Broken Places. I normally do not read grief self help books because the titles alone make me sad. This one however was sent to my sister and I from her former college professor. It written by faculty members who have also lost children, and I have to say it has been very helpful and encouraging to read.

So tonight I am all tucked in, and the words jump out at me like the melody from an ice cream truck ( I am chubby so that explains the reference…I Digress). Professor Blevins writes, "One of the surprises was my hibernation…I broke into sobs so easily, I did not want to make others feel ill at ease or embarrass myself….walking to my car I realized: my fear of seeing others was no greater than other’s fear of seeing me!”

This is exactly how I feel.

I am very blessed that I have not had to go back to work yet. I concider it a true gift from my Husband and God, that I am allowed to take some time off for this journey. Not everyone is so lucky, and I am sincere in my acknowledgment.
I have busied myself with many other things, but have not had to force myself back into my old “normal” routine. But I sometimes feel like I am in this trance state, and until now I couldn’t find a word for it. Hibernating describes it perfectly. I sometimes am painfully aware that I keep safe and cozy in my own little cubby hole because I am afraid of the interaction I may face. I fear that I may break down at any moment so I tend to avoid social encounters as much as I can. I do attend church regularly, and have even taken part in volunteering, but if I am being honest I am uncomfortable the whole time. I worry about if people can see the invisible sign on my forehead “Caution grieving Mother, may explode at any time!”. I worry that someone will refer to Nathan by the simplest of “How are you doing?” I worry because I always seem to round the corner of the grocery store at the same time as a mommy with her brand new little boy, and I worry that today may be the day I burst into tears. I worry and worry in anticipation of awkwardness and pain. The whole time not thinking that I am not the only one uncomfortable. It is just as awkward for the other person. I don't have to fear that blinking neon "grief sign".
I actually went to a wedding a few weeks back, and enjoyed myself. But what you don’t know is that I could not breath for several seconds as I approached the doors. I ran into lots of loving faces. I had several wonderful embraces. Not once did anyone bring up Nathan, but the fear of it, almost kept be at home in hibernation. I bet they felt apprehension too. But they were brave and kind enough to approach me.

This is not healthy, but it is not abnormal. I cannot tell you how wonderful it felt to read that someone else felt this way too. How wonderful to know that someone else has struggled with feeling boxed in. If we are not careful Grief can trap us. Loss and Grief have a purpose. A purpose I will never understand. God gives no explanation to His ways. Tragedy strikes us all, mostly when we are not looking. But I do not believe it is for punishment. It is not because of some secret sin in our lives. God allows tragedy for reasons I cannot comprehend. But often tragedy allows for honest conversation with God. A relationship forms instead of a religion and we pray intimately probably for the first time.

Loss and Grief do have there place, but it is suppose to be a place where what we have learned cannot hold us. We have to break out of that place and go forward. We have to learn to breath differently. We have to learn to take different steps because we are not meant to sit still in anguish. We do not always get what we deserve, or at least what we think we deserve. We get what we get. We are not in control of what propels us to hibernate. We are only in control of how long we choose hibernate. I think it has comfort for a while, but sooner or later we have to come out of the safe place we have created because it is not realistic.

Life is messy, and unpredictable, but it is also wonderful, and funny. There are moments of joy that we are going to miss if we sit in grief’s cocoon too long. Think about this. If a caterpillar stays in the cocoon forever, won’t it just die? Eventually it has to become a new creature, bust out, and fly away. Can I get an Amen?