Hmmm, What to Do?

This is the day that Speck was due, and I really have no idea what to do with myself. I had planned to maybe try to do some painting or something, but I am having trouble deciding on a way to paint about all this. I definitely will do more writing after this post in my little book of letters to the babies. I don't write to Speck anymore because that seems a little creepy. Sort of like praying to a person, and that would obviously be wrong and a little Catholic, actually. But, I like writing to Spud about Speck sometimes because I am able to love Spud more and be more thankful for him/her because of Speck. So, that's one thing on the list of things to do. I'm usually really good at making lists, but today I'm sort of at a loss.

I suppose that may be part of the problem. I always want to DO something; it feels like some sort of way to purge all the thinking and feeling. After Speck left, I instantly filled my plate with 5 jobs. Yeah, I had 5 jobs for a while there. Of course, that sort of was reactionary and didn't serve me very well. It also kept me from being able to appropriately process and grieve because I was too busy taking care of everyone else all the time. It got to the point where I would just start crying at random times and not be able to stop: while babysitting, while organizing someone's files, while planning long-term vision, while making earrings, while grocery shopping, while teaching. Yeah, that was no good. So, doing is not always the right thing to do. I've learned that lesson, I think. I'm down to one job :) Well, one that I get paid to do.

For all my desire to be frenetically active, though, I think I'm better than many at feeling what I feel. I know how to be sad without being crabby or hurt without being mad. I've never felt bitter or angry throughout these nine months, by God's grace. I was quite depressed for a good 3 or 4 months, so I felt irrational sometimes. But, even then, I still had a good, basic grasp on reality. Reality being: God is real; God is good; God loves me; God wants to give me good gifts; God is zealous for his kingdom, and my salvation is an intimate part of that. Therefore, God often does hard things for us and even to us, out of a fierce love, to make us as he wants us to be. I know that all this is true because of the example of Jesus. He had THE hardest thing happen to him, total separation from God's love, and now he has the best and greatest position, the right hand of God. I'm so thankful that God is all those things because I'm very tiny and very helpless without him.

So, about today... I still don't really know what I feel like doing or not doing. Because of the vast amount of thinking that I do and doing that I've already done, I feel like I can sort of just rest today. I have that dramatic, artist-performer personality that makes me want to create some sort of production or ritual out of everything. I want to value every sensation to the last drop. Sometimes, though, taking everything so deeply results in saturation, and I just can't soak up any more. Right now, I have that numb feeling that usually proceeds a wringing out of the sponge. I just never know what will start the squeeze or when it will happen. Better steer clear of Target - that was my big trigger right after Speck died... darn baby section. (Obviously that doesn't hold sway over me anymore thanks to God's gift of a certain little Spudkin.)

Praying sometimes does it too, and that is the one other thing that I know is on the list today. I've been rather reluctant to get started, actually, because it probably is going to make me cry. I'm not so sure that I want to know what's behind door #1 today. I have a tendency to indulge my dramatic heart and sometimes I do get too worked up. I think that's where my sin is in all these feelings. I really want everything to be about me instead of being about glory to God for all that he does for me and the rest of his creation.

I also worry WAY to much about what other people think about me. I feel continually judged for my feelings and behavior regarding this whole miscarriage thing. I imagine people just waiting for me to please shut-up about it, so we can get back to normal, quasi-deep, but never disturbing, levels of intimacy. Brendan always tries to tell me that I'm wrong about that, and I'm sure he's right. But, it's hard for me to assume that other people have space and grace for me to keep talking about it if I need to. Most people get this weird deer-in-the-headlights aura about them if I mention anything. I also don't want everyone to think I'm crazy or can't get over it just because I still think and talk about it. I think that's my biggest frustration. I'm always worried that people assume the worst of me. It's hard for me to communicate that I really am ok; I'm not bitter; I'm not despondent; I'm not "dwelling on it." I'm just still interested and actually sort of enjoy thinking about the experience and how it has changed me. Each day that goes by builds new levels of healing, and insight, and hope, and excitement about how much better equipped I am now to face future trials, my own and other's, because of the tools I've been given and the armor that continues to form. And not bitter, old, crusty, hard-knock life armor, but an armor of faith, hope, love, and knowledge of the Truth.

I felt this way for a long time after the ballet career obliteration too, and I felt equally then, as now, that people were sort of waiting for me to get over it when, really, that's not it at all. I'm just a big-time processor; it's not that I'm not "over-it;" it's that I'm still trying to milk every last bit of education from the experience. Along with gaining education from it, though, is a reliving of it, and that leads to deeper understanding of the loss which is hard and sad. I think most people see that part of what's going on without hearing (or maybe buying?) what I say about all the good that is coming from my processing. Then, my sin takes over and I start battling, if not out-loud then in imaginary arguments in my head, for my image. "Don't think I'm messed up!" screams my sinful heart. "I'm doing great, gosh darn it! Everyone should be impressed!" Ah, sin. It's not because of me that I can handle and sift through my painful experiences; it's because of God. He's the only impressive one around here.

Well, speaking of processing, I'd say this post just helped me work out quite a bit. A good day for it too, Speck Day. After all, she started it!