It’s Not Just Anxiety, It’s Also Grief

I read an article yesterday that said “the discomfort you’re feeling is grief…”

And as if a huge weight has been lifted off of my stressed out, anxious, feeling depressed and exhausted heart…

That’s exactly what it is.

My phone dinged bright and early Wednesday morning with a reminder that we should be boarding our flight to Punta Cana. I felt that feeling rising up again.

Discomfort.
Sadness.
Anxiety.

Grief.

The article went on to state we’re the first generation who has feelings about our feelings. We mask our grief to protect others. Not to look guilty or selfish. And we brush it off.

When in all reality, we should be allowed to feel it, embrace it, and find ways to work through it.

I’ve seen it rising up in my children while attempting to create a new “normal” for them. I’ve heard several times, “I miss school.” “I miss hanging out with my friends.” “I miss my teachers.” And, “I miss seeing our family and going to do fun things.” But instead of dismissing that grief and telling them, “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon”, I’ve found that sometimes sinking into the couch, letting the tears flow, and reassuring them that it’s okay to feel all the emotions right now is perfectly normal.

That brings me to grief of normalcy… having the comfort of our “normal” lives taken from us fairly suddenly, and replaced with fear of the unknown, anticipation of what’s to come, and lots of feelings of uncertainty.

The article went on to say, “The precautions we’re taking are the right ones. History tells us that. This is survivable. We will survive. This is a time to overprotect but not overreact.”

Control the controllable.

Today I sat on my back porch in the sunshine. I wiped a tear and felt the sadness. Sad I wasn’t on a beach somewhere tropical with friends and my husband on a trip we’d had planned for the past year. Sad that the luxury of just leaving the house is hard to come by these days. And sad that a world as we knew it will no longer be the same.

So I did what I do well and controlled the controllable. I can’t get to the beach but I can put on one of my beachy outfits and favorite vacation hats and let the sun warm my face, fruity beverage in hand. I can listen to the laughter of my three girls who’s homeschool day consisted of a lot of grace and a lot of recess. And I can fold my hands in prayer and pray for those who are also grieving, who feel out of control, and share similar anxieties.

Know that we will get through this, God willing. And know that it’s okay to feel all sorts of ways with each passing day. Let them in. Embrace them. And keep going.

❤️