Grief is running late everywhere you go because it’s too hard to get up and get ready like you used to.
Grief/anxiety got so out of control that it physically manifested itself as itching, and then weeks later as eczema.
Grief is having a short fuse and snapping about something small… ALL THE TIME.
Grief is being sick for 3 work days but still wanting to take another whole week off.
Grief/anxiety is regaining 12 of the 24 lbs you lost earlier this year because fast food is easy and sugar is delicious.
Grief is crying through at least 1 song at church every Sunday.
Grief/anxiety is falling asleep before 9:30pm most nights because you’re too exhausted from emotionally keeping it together all day.
Grief is not keeping your Krav training routine because it hurts to be to be physically beaten when you’re already mentally beaten.
Grief is hibernating on the weekends because you’re tired of human interaction when everything just hurts.
Grief is sobbing through your annual gynecologist appointment because it’s your 6th time being there this year but this time it’s not for a baby.
Grief is keeping your head down in the waiting room because of all the pregnant bellies and celebrated ultrasound pictures that you didn’t get to have.
Grief is asking God to take care of your baby up there and to please give us another down here that we can keep.
Grief is prolonged when medical bills continue to come in the mail.
Grief is playing with puppies and wondering how much better it will be playing with your own babies one day.
Grief is not cooking dinner on Sunday nights because you just can’t.
Grief is throwing away a 2-gallon bag of food because you haven’t felt like cleaning out the fridge.
Grief is ruining a recipe and throwing away all of the contents instead of making a plan to salvage the ingredients because everything is the end of the world.
Grief is sticking your hands into cold, soapy dishwater for the 4th time in one weekend because you haven’t been able to actually wash the dishes.
Grief is the pits. There is no timeline. Most people give you a pass for all of these things but then it just feels like a crutch. Part of tonight, like many nights, was full of grief.
Blessed is having a husband
-who verbally lists every restaurant in a 2 mile radius until something sounds good to eat when you don’t feel like cooking.
-who holds me and comforts me while I cry even when he’s hurting too.
-who will burst into homemade songs just to lighten the mood.
-who speaks truth into my lies.
-who prays aloud when I can’t.
-who shows me unconditional love every single day.
Blessed is having the greatest parents and sister in the world who regularly encourage and advise me.
Blessed is having friends who check on me every day and remind me to give myself grace.
Blessed is still having financial stability despite the thousands of dollars we’ve paid on medical bills.
There are still many blessings. I’m not always the most optimistic to point them out, but I know they’re there. And they definitely help keep me going.