“Choosing” Joy

Social media is full of reasons for people to get easily offended. I try to just scroll past what gets under my skin and refrain from making comments if I disagree with postings. Everyone is entitled to an opinion, and what I think is not going to sway someone one way or the other in most cases. I recently came across a few things that rubbed me the wrong way which I want to address on here, but first I thought it would be helpful to provide a little background. My friends who posted those things weren’t intending to hurt me, offend me, or in any way minimize what I’m experiencing. Having said that…

Those of you who have followed me this past week know that I am not in a good mental state and am seeking professional counseling soon to help me navigate through the mess my life has become since…

1. losing my son to suicide,
2. dealing with the ramifications of my Nana’s stroke 8 months ago,
3. having another child,
4. becoming a stay-at-home-mom and losing well over half my income,
5.  trying to forge a new relationship and manage expectations with a previous absentee father,
6. coping with a mother who continues to battle drug addiction,
7. managing a chronic illness that keeps me in some form of pain 90% of the time

Whoa, Nelly. That’s a whole lot of pain, drama, and stress. I am not one who likes to accept help. I’m used to doing things on my own, on a timetable that works for me, and getting resolution quickly thanks to being skilled at multi-tasking and putting forth a ton of effort. However, it has become apparent to me in recent weeks that I am not capable of handling any of what I listed above on my own. I can’t even “let go and let God”, “take my burden to the Lord and leave it there,” “cast all my care upon Him for He cares for me,” or any of the other things that fellow well-meaning Christians are so apt to say when someone is in distress bearing a burden that is crushing. I’ve tried. Oh, how I have tried! I have faith and a personal relationship with my Lord. I trust Him. I know that He is good and works all things together for good to them who are the called according to His purpose. Knowing and trusting and believing are all great and wonderful things that I continue trying to do even when I am weak because I do know for a fact that my strength and help comes from above.

BUT…I am struggling. It’s time to let someone besides family and friends listen to me and help guide me through this dark valley. Someone who is trained to help people like myself who have experienced the very definition of trauma. Someone who knows the uselessness of empty, worn out cliches and who can give me concrete steps to follow to promote healing…not only in my body but more importantly, in my mind. Someone who won’t judge me. Someone who will listen without injecting their own personal experience because they know that regardless of similar circumstances, my pain is unique to me and deserves its own space. Someone who will understand that while I desperately want to be an overcomer through it all, I’m not equipped to handle the sheer magnitude of all those stressors in my life, and that without some direction and resources to offer me hope, I am in danger of suffering a true mental break. I’m in a crisis and have sense enough at this point to acknowledge it and not try to gloss over what I know for a fact deserves prompt attention.

OK, so what exactly was it that caused my panties to get in a wad on social media? Well, I saw a meme on several FB pages last week of a cow with a quote that was meant to be funny. Let me reiterate that I am in NO WAY upset with any of my friends who posted it. I understand the intent, and I get the humor but I want to address its message on here as it pertains to what I am currently experiencing.

This relates to another popular saying where believers are encouraged to “choose joy.” As if we have an either/or option. We can either choose misery or choose joy, which suggests that people who are miserable are that way because they choose to be. Let me be clear and frank with you…there ARE days when I wake up and feel horrible and don’t do anything to change that. That’s on me and I own it. I accept that it is mostly laziness and just wanting to feel sorry for myself. Every once in a while those days come and I go through them feeling like crud and then they pass. I don’t make them a habit.

Most other days I wake up and give myself a pep talk that most NFL coaches would envy- telling myself that today is going to be a better day while creating an inner monologue that psyches me up. And then certain things come my way that I can’t process well and they cause me to get off-balance and the grief hits and I have to deal with it. And dealing with it over and over and over is so very tiring and hard. IT IS SO DAMN HARD. I just want to pull the covers over my head and hide. Sleep is great because it is my escape, but with a baby in the house, sometimes it is elusive when I need it the most in order to recharge my batteries and battle another day.

So if my day isn’t awesome it is not because I have chosen to be a miserable cow. It’s because I have turned on the TV and heard another news anchor detailing Epstein’s suicide and giving details about it that are horrifying. Details that I try to avoid hearing because it makes me wonder even more about Carter’s method and I have specifically made it a point not to research it or know anything more about it other than what I personally saw that July morning in 2017.

Or maybe it’s because I looked out my kitchen window and saw another grave being dug out in the cemetery behind my house and it reminded me that my boy is buried under 6 feet of nasty dirt in a baby blue casket. I walked away from the graveside so I wouldn’t have to see my baby being put in the ground. I knew my mind couldn’t handle it, so I didn’t look. I held the hands of my husband and daughter and made the trek to my house and just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other so I wouldn’t fall. I had people to greet and food to eat and I couldn’t sit and sweat under that ugly green tent with lumpy Astro-turf and watch them shovel dirt over my son. So I walked away and every time I see them getting ready for a funeral outside of my window I cringe on the inside and physically turn away. Only problem with that is my mind can’t turn away.

Or maybe I’m miserable because while at work taking money from a customer one Friday night I noticed that the person was wearing a Dorman shirt. I asked if his grandson played sports at the school and was told that he was in the 9th grade- same grade Carter would have been in. I asked him which middle school he had previously attended and he said Dawkins- same middle school as Carter. I said, “Oh, that’s nice. Please tell him that Carter Robinson’s mom said hello. He’ll know who that is.” He looked at me all puzzled, so I further added, “My son, Carter, passed away right before 7th grade.” He then asked the inevitable, “Had he been sick?” to which I responded, “No…it was suicide.” I braced myself for what I knew was coming and had gotten pretty used to…the looks of horror, confusion, and pity (all in that order). In an effort to somehow get past the awkwardness of the moment, I let him know that the Lord had recently blessed us with a beautiful baby girl- would he please let his grandson know that?  We had even named her after Carter!  His response? “Oh, that’s wonderful. She replaced your boy.”

Ummm….negative. She didn’t REPLACE my son, because he is IRREPLACEABLE. I stood there speechless and immediately took money from the customer who stood behind him, effectively dismissing him. It bothered me for days and days that I didn’t say something, that I didn’t correct him, that I didn’t do anything. In an effort to connect in some small way with one of Carter’s classmates, I opened my already bleeding heart to more pain.

Those are just a few examples of things I didn’t “choose” – hearing a news report of a suicide while trying to hear a weather forecast, seeing gravediggers outside while trying to get a glimpse of my son’s resting spot, and being on the receiving end of an ignorant remark. Having Carlen has most definitely given our family hope and a sense of renewed purpose. We are blessed with life and joy in our family once again. Caroline smiles real, genuine smiles…just like she did with Carter. We hadn’t seen those smiles in almost 2 years, and now we do. She has a sibling again. However, she’ll always miss her brother and we’ll always miss our son.  A new baby doesn’t negate that fact. She makes life more joyful for our family, but the pain of losing our beloved Carter is still 100% there.

A person who loses an arm will always know that it’s missing. Even if they have another arm that is fully functioning. Even if they have two legs that are strong. Because their arm is still missing, tasks that were once easily completed are now more difficult. Over time, the person adapts and those tasks aren’t as burdensome, but the loss is still evident and deeply felt. People still notice it. Many will continue to ask even after years have passed how they may help make tasks a little easier for the person with the missing arm. They realize that the person still struggles and they do what they can to help.

The above analogy is obvious so I won’t insult your intelligence by belaboring it, but hopefully you understand my point and will refrain from ever saying something so asinine to another bereaved individual.

Moving on to something else that I came across and want to address…

While this is true to some extent, I am grappling with the message it conveys because my mind IS filled with God’s word. I know Bible verses on top of Bible verses. I know songs of praise. I know quotes from beloved men of God…one of my favorites is from the late Dr. Dennis Carter that states, ‘The Christian life is a life of daily-ness.” And you know what? Carter did, too. Just the night before he was up in the youth choir singing about our Lord. He knew Jesus. He read his devotion book. He won prizes in Sunday School for knowing his Bible. However, Satan’s lies deceived him. They deceive me, too. Even when I know they are false, I still wrestle with them.

I have a lot of guilt over his death, and it’s guilt that is singular to me. I was the last person to speak to him. I was the last person to see him alive. Why wasn’t I enough for him to want to stay? Did he love me? If he loved me, then why did he leave? Because I wasn’t enough for my father to stay in my life, because I wasn’t enough for my son to stay in my life, it makes me question my worth to my husband- especially since we’ve had our share of hardships through the years. I’m just waiting for the shoe to drop and for him to leave me, too.

Lies, lies, lies…I know they are lies, but they are in my mind constantly. Joseph, bless him, has tried repeatedly to help me focus on truth. Last year as I got ready to experience Mother’s Day without the one who first made me a mother, he sent me a text and I saved it because it was very powerful. I don’t share a lot about my husband and his thoughts on here, because I don’t want my narrative in any way to reflect his feelings…they are his and his alone to share. However, I want to share the text from last year on the blog today just to provide a little glimpse into how wise he is and how he has chosen to lead us.

He wrote, “I know for a fact that Carter knew we loved him…he knew that when he was alive as well as now. Carter is perfect now….he knows. He knew before he passed away- if he didn’t think that he wouldn’t have handled things the way he did. He loved us- he just didn’t like what plagued his mind. I feel as if it was a storm from all angles that lined up and overcame him. I know that this weekend is going to be excruciatingly painful. My heart aches now just thinking about it. I wish I could help…I know I can’t. There is no doubt in my mind that Carter loved his mama. Always proud of his mama. Never missed an opportunity to tell everyone who his mama was and what she does. The regret is heavy to carry for sure. Every single person that has a hand in his life thinks of things that maybe just maybe would have changed the outcome…we all have to cling to the fact that Carter is just gone from our sight…he sends us love everyday with those sweet memories. Satan then turns those memories into mourning just as quickly as they leave our mind…that’s how wicked Satan is. He loves to torment us…but thank God one day we will stand and watch as he is chained and cast into the lake of fire! And then we will be holding our sweet boy…that reckoning day will be a grand day. I love you very much and encourage you to cling to the mystical things we now have…the bracelet- the blue butterfly- the special giggles and laughs he sends us…that is gonna help carry us through.”

Every word that he wrote above is true. I have to try and remember that today. All I can do is focus on today and today alone. That is what I’m choosing. And by doing so, hopefully that won’t make me a miserable cow. 😉