Frustration, Coping, Love and Getting Over Yourself

I know things aren’t going quite right when I can’t write.  I mean, I can, but what I want to write, what is seething just beyond is untouchable.

It’s like those glass block walls, thick and wavy.  You can see through them, but not really.  You see the images, colors, impressions of shapes.  You can make out what lies beyond…or at least your brain processes the jumbled impressions into something manageable.  Yet, you still can’t really comprehend it.  You don’t see the whole picture.  You can taste, hear, smell, whatever is on the other side.

It’s this mix of just the right circumstances.  We had a longish Christmas vacation, visiting lots of people, driving a lot, not many breaks, loved it all, but it’s a trial for an introvert like me and takes time to get back into things afterwards.  Somewhere I also picked-up a cold-turned sinus infection, leaving my mind muddled, my movements slow, and the added gift of a migraine, making even moving hurt.  New projects, continuing projects, a husband traveling for work, and the background specter of depression.  And then two days of cancelled school…I get the horribly cold temps, but the hours of leaving a kindergartner on the IPad, a 3 year old daughter establishing her independence, and the general neglect created by a sick mom…well…

…I think I am finally out of it.

What did it take?  Reading…reading an amazing piece of writing that gets me just where I need to go.

I’m “working on” Kate Hopper’s Use Your Words and began Chapter 4, Our Children as Characters.  It was in Beth Kephart’s The Line is White, and It Is Narrow, used by Kate as a powerful example, that it clicked.

It’s not like I think I’m anything really special, other than we are all unique in God’s eyes.  Yet, when I move into a new world, go through a transition, move towards a new life, chosen or not…I have the tendency to move into myself.  And what gets me out is connecting.

In just a few pages, Kephart demolished the thick, glass blocks.

That thing that had been building up, blurring reality was my way of not having to deal.  My drawing in, drawing back, I could cope.

The epiphany?  The same doubt, dread, uncertainty, and hope that I approached finding out the results from my psychological profiling (all part of the PC(USA) ordination process), has re-emerged as my son is going through a variety of assessments.  At the end of the month we find out the results of standard tests and in-person impressions.  We find out how we can better help him…or perhaps we will find out nothing.

I know I am not alone in this feeling.  We want to know, we have to know…but…

I am thankful for being pulled out of the slump, out of my retreat.  Coping skills are great, sometimes, but right now, I need to be here, present, in the moment.  I need to be mindful.  I need to get over myself.  This isn’t about me.  This is about him.  And in the end, all I can do is be there for him…as it really is about him.

As with Kephart’s observation, it is only our son who can mastermind his own survival.  Yet I will be here, always here, striving to be his safe place in the world.

Lord, help us grow out of our ineffective coping skills.  Help us identify what may have once been necessary for our own survival, but now only hinders Your call for us in this world.  Help us move on…and move into our lives and the lives around us.  Amen.



About SFriant

I live to walk with others on their journeys - because everyone needs to know that they are loved, that they matter, and that they are doing amazing things. I'm a lot like our two kids: obsessed with learning, and constantly creating.
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1 Response to Frustration, Coping, Love and Getting Over Yourself

  1. katehopper says:

    Lovely, Stephanie. I’m so glad that Kephart’s piece helped once again ground you. I love that essay (all of her writing). I’ll be thinking of you as you wait for those results.

    Oh, and another thing…I’m hosting a giveaway on my blog of a collection of poems by Sarah Wells. I think they would really resonate with you.

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